He Tangata: Rachel Turner
Elisabeth Easther talks to Rachel Turner, guide at Whakaari (White Island) and Moutohora (Whale Island)
When I was growing up in Kawarau, my father built a steel ketch in our backyard so most of my early memories were centred on him building this twomasted, 12m yacht and me playing in the hull of that boat, which dominated our backyard. He and mum were told they couldn’t have kids, so they started building the boat to sail around the world. Then I came along, followed by my two brothers. They launched the boat in Whakatane and moored it in Whangamata and we went there every weekend to sail. I was about 5, my youngest brother was about 2 and me and my other brother had to clip him on and off in his harness — that was our job because he could hardly walk — but
he was a great swimmer. For our holidays, we’d go on the yacht to the islands around Whangamata and Colville, or the
Coromandel — but from a young age, my grandfather instilled in me a
love of native bush. My first big adventures away from family were at the Outdoor Pursuits Centre, while the ocean was part of my day-to-day life. So when I started doing things on land, with native bush, that really struck a chord. At university all my studies were in terrestrial ecology and conservation biology. Taking a break from my studies, I went to South Africa to work with a great white shark research programme, but I got terribly homesick. I missed New Zealand and how you can walk down the street and not get mugged. In South Africa we had to carry mug money — about $15 — so if you got hit up you handed that over and they left you alone. I also missed pumping my own gas. In South Africa, you’d roll into the forecourt, wind the windows up, then a dude comes up wearing high viz, you crack the window a little and hand him cash after he pumps your gas. But it’s an amazingly beautiful country. One night we were working near Mossel Bay, an island with a dense population of Cape fur
seals and we were tracking a shark that was small but really aggressive. The seals would forage at night, going to sea to catch fish, knowing there were sharksin the water. Every now and then a group would set off, groups of 50 or 60, knowing a shark was going to
hit. It was the same vibe as bullrush. People lining up, you know what’s going to happen but you just hope it’s not you. I will never forget the speed and power — the terror — in such a small space, around such a small boat.
I also did a stint in Kaikoura, doing some research with the fur seal colony. We’d be working all day and the locals would come
down with a feed of fish and chips — the girl who worked there would see us working all day, monitoring seals and interviewing people and she’d bring us food. Little things like that make a big difference. When I was at uni, during my summer holidays I worked for PJs, guiding on White Island. After I graduated and had been working as a consultant ecologist for about eight years, it got to the point where piping streams to build houses on top of them was getting me down and I needed a change. I returned to Whakatane and Peter and Jenny [from PJ’s] got in touch and asked if I wanted to be involved with Moutohora (Whale Island). It’s one of the most incredible ecological restoration stories ever. They released 40 saddleback (tieke) and now they’ve got 1500. They’ve just released North Island robins — and chicks from this year will be breeding adults next year. I love Moutohora — it’s special and it brought me back.
White Island is a place you approach with
fear. You know the legend about the fierce woman, Whakaari? She’s out there on her own doing her thing and each day when we get in the boat and approach, it’s like we’re asking, is today okay? Can we hang out? She’s kind of like my fierce best friend. When you land there, you’re on her doorstep and when you turn and leave, looking back from the boat, you see how beautiful she is. It’s a tentative friendship tinged with fear and respect. That’s what I love most about Whakaari. She’s responsible for my life and I feel that every time I go there.
I don’t think people realise what a jewel we
have here. You can be standing on the wharf in winter and see royal spoonbills foraging right in front of you — that’s mind-blowing. I used to work really hard to make money to visit places like Whakatane, but now I live here and experience these wonders every day.