Leisure time
Making the Christmas card. Horse did the drawing. Chris the photography.
PHOTOGRAPHY.
As I mentioned earlier photography was an interest of Merv and Chris, and I took a 35mm camera with me. We also took an enlarger and developing equipment. So we were well set up to produce magnificent photographs. Not so, at least at first.
We needed a darkroom so with a lot of effort part of a storeroom/workshop outside the Met. office was converted to a what may be called a darkish room.
It was very hard to keep the daylight out so most of the work was done at night. Initial attempts at producing black and white prints were disappointing. Very grainy and lacking definition, we tried everything to improve results, wasting reels of film in the process but to no avail.
Finally someone tried using rain water instead of tap water and immediately obtained good prints.
That's all it was, the water we used for everyday operation came from a spring and was obviously contaminated with something that affected the photographic chemicals. After that it was plain sailing and some good results were obtained.
THE OLD V8
The Island had three vehicles when we arrived, a D7 bulldozer, a Fordson tractor, and an aged Ford V8 truck.
We took up with us, in a knocked down condition, a brand new Ford truck, a Thames Trader.
The V8 and the tractor were both petrol engined whereas the new truck was a diesel. The bulldozer was not exactly a leisure vehicle and Noel the handyman kept a close control over its use, though all of us had a try at using it at times, with, in my case, a marked lack of success.
I found the only way I could make a decent job of flattening something out was to drag the blade backwards. If I went forwards I just dug a large hole.
When we first arrived the V8 was in use as the basic means of transporting goods around the various places accessible by road. That or the tractor using its trailer. The tractor was in good order but of course was mainly used by the farm manager.
Old V8 on the road to Boat Cove.
The V8 was in terrible state. It had no doors on the cab, no brakes, and the steering had a full turn of slack. The engine had no discernible compression. It had no radiator, just a twenty gallon tank mounted on front in which the water boiled away after a half hour's running.
The outgoing mechanic who kept it going had stashes of water every few kilometres along the roads.
Instructions from Wellington were to drive the thing over a cliff or get rid of it somehow once the new Trader was assembled.
In the event when the new truck was ready, the old V8 was driven into a paddock and left there. It stayed there for several months until Chris had the bright idea of getting it going and using it just for transport when off duty. No one except myself seemed too enthusiastic, but we went ahead anyway.
Sitting derelict in the open for several months had not improved its condition, however we towed it to a convenient spot and cleaned it out. The engine was seized tight, sparkplug and leads missing or rotten, and so on.
As it happened, we had brought some spares with us. These were probably ordered before the new truck was approved, and included a new radiator.
This we installed and made up new plug leads. When all was done that could be done we tried to free up the engine.
It defied all efforts with crank handle, so we resorted to towing. I was on the tractor and Chris was in the truck as we went up and down the road, gently at first, Chris easing in the clutch till the back wheels skidded, but still it would not free up.
The old V8 in original condition, PJ on guard.
Finally there was a loud bang and looking back I saw the memorable sight of a V-shaped fountain coming from the engine as the pistons ejected all the rubbish and oil and whatever else had collected in there. The engine was free and nothing obviously broken.
Now to get it going. The hard part was figuring out the cylinders' firing order, but we made a stab at it, got the petrol flowing to the carburettor and resumed towing mode.
Much to our surprise it started quite easily, and with a bit of plug lead swapping and carby tuning we had a working vehicle. Chris painted it "roofing iron red" and it served us well until just before we were due to come home.
Wellington somehow got wind of the fact that the supposedly written off vehicle was still in use and ordered its immediate immobilisation.
So it was returned to its original paddock and left there. I don't know what its eventual fate was but I don't think it ever ran again.
What to do in our leisure time was no real problem. The climate of Raoul is very benign. Apart from the occasional rather fierce storms, the weather was usually settled. Going for long walks or tramps was popular whenever the need to get away for a while struck. There were plenty of places to go, such as Boat Cove, Denham Bay, along the beach to Hutchinson's Bluff, or the other way around the rocks and lava flows to Nash Point.
Other popular trips were to the top of Mamakau which was the Island's highest point, to the crater lakes, or the big trip around the crater rim.
Fishing was excellent and we usually had a good supply of fish in the reefer box. That fish in the picture gave us a good supply of kingfish steaks.
SPEARFISHING.
Spearfishing was only done by Chris, Merv and I. At first it was really exciting due to the number of large and suicidally friendly fish such as kingfish, kawahai, groper, turtles and SHARKS. These fish had no fear of humans at all.
It was a totally new experience for us as we were used to New Zealand and Fiji waters where fish were usually scarce and very hard to get close to.
On Raoul they clustered round to get a look at these strange beings invading their habitat. Needless to say we stopped spearing them except to take specimens of anything unusual which we preserved in formaldehyde for the museum people, another IGY thing we were asked to do.
I even saw three deepwater tuna at Boat Cove, which were not fish that one usually came across.
Kingfish speared at boat cove.
Here are a couple of spearfishing anecdotes: Merv and I went to Fishing Rock for a spot of diving, and, as usual, I was ready first so went into the water to look around. The water was fairly clear and, in addition to the usual Mau Mau and other small fish, I saw a small shark about a metre long. There was nothing unusual about this and I followed it for a while until I swam over another shark.
This one was something else again. It was the biggest shark I have ever seen, and was at least 5 metres long. It was huge and only a couple of metres away. I panicked and headed for the rocks, more or less walking on water. As I clambered out Merv was just going in. I yelled at him but he was too intent on following something, however he eventually looked up and I yelled "Shark! Shark!".
"I know, and I'm going to get it" he called back. For a horrible moment I thought he was going to spear the big one. However he suddenly did the "walking on water" trick, and arrived beside me on the rocks.
"Why didn't you tell me that thing was there?" he spluttered. It turned out he had done the same as I did, followed the small shark until he saw the big one.
Sharks of that size are common in Raoul waters but not usually so close inshore. The crew of the "Holmglen" regularly caught sharks so large that they had to hoist them out with a derrick.
The case had two viewports, one for the lens to see out, and one for the operator to see in to watch the frame recorder and so on. These ports were on opposite ends of the case.
There were two handles on each side and a view-frame on top. The idea was that you held the two handles at arm's length, pointed the camera at the scene using the frame on top for alignment, and pressed a button in one handle to run the cameras electric motor. All very simple.
On this particular occasion we were at Boat Cove where Chris wanted some underwater shots. We were a short way off shore when two reasonably large sharks appeared, one about 2 metres, the other a bit smaller, but big enough to be a danger if so inclined.
Normally we would back off and go back to be close to the shore, in case we had to get out in a hurry.
Chris must have been feeling particularly brave that day because as I started to back away he beckoned me over and handed me the camera. We stuck our heads above water, he took his snorkel out, and said, "I'm going to swim with them, film me!" Which he proceeded to do and which I rather reluctantly did.
It went well. The sharks behaved and Chris got quite close to them. These would be great shots, something to show the grandchildren. The sharks soon got bored and swam off and we returned to shore quite pleased with ourselves.
Now we had no way of processing the film and had to wait till the "Holmglen" returned, so the film could be sent to New Zealand. Then we had to wait until another ship came up or we had an air drop. Several months went by before we could view the film. The Holmglen came and went. The air drop duly occurred and the film arrived.
Imagine the moment as Chris set up the projector and ran the film. Everyone was there, but what did they see?
On the screen came, not a dramatic shot of Chris swimming with the sharks, but the top of Pete's face with a wide-eyed stare behind his face mask. Yes, I had held the camera the wrong way round.
I thought that was the end of my friendship with Chris, indeed I wondered if I would survive the rest of the year. However he came around eventually and all was, if not forgotten, at least forgiven.
DANGERS OF RAOUL.
Raoul, being the sort of place it is, everything one does has an extra dimension of hazard. Take one of the most popular activities, exploring the surrounding country. Practically everyone, at some time or other, went out by themselves, either hunting goats or just exploring. Usually they came back on time, but also often had some incident to report.
Once Horse got himself lost and had to spend the night out, but turned up before a search party was organized to look for him.
Intrepid Hunter??
In my case two occasions come to mind. Once while doing the "Round the Crater" trip, I became disorientated in the thick bush. A convenient tree allowed an easy climb, so up I went, got my bearings and started down. About a metre from the ground I let go to jump the rest of the way.
Unfortunately this was a bad idea, because my left foot got hooked up in a fork and I ended suspended upside down. It was a hell of a job to get free, but I did at the cost of a twisted ankle.
I managed to limp home, but it could have been a much worse experience.
If I had been disabled I would have been found eventually as we always carried a rifle with us on trips like this. If not to shoot goats at least to act as a signaling device if needed. Three shots at short intervals indicated something was wrong and hopefully help would come. Incidentally in spite of the picture I never actually shot anything, nor even shot at anything on Raoul, except fish of course..
The other occasion was on a visit over to Denham Bay. This meant a climb down steep cliffs to get to the beach and part of that climb was over an extensive rock slide. This slide was unstable with large loose boulders and I was picking my way carefully when an earthquake struck. The whole thing started moving. I ran the rest of the way and managed to reach the safety of firm ground.
The earthquake only lasted a few seconds but was enough to dislodge rocks and boulders, which went bounding down the slide and crashed through the bushes below.
OTHER NEAR MISSES.
Three or four of us were standing in the "street" outside the tin shed which was used to store potatoes. Horse wandered along with his semi automatic 22 rifle. He said, as he disappeared into the shed that he was going to shoot some rats that were making a meal of our spuds.
We heard a couple of shots then a regular fusillade. The problem was that we also heard bullets whizzing round our heads. We all took off in different directions and a lot of yelling went on.
Horse came out to see what all the noise was about. It appeared that he shot a rat on the rafters, then another one ran down a diagonal brace. Horse, not realizing which way he was facing, fired off half a dozen shots trying to pick the second rat off. These shots went straight through the sheet iron and nearly picked us off.
Speaking of rifles and rats, Merv and I went to Boat Cove and planned on staying overnight at a hut located on the cliff top. That night, as we settled in, a rat poked its head up out of a rock fireplace. Merv grabbed the 303 rifle, rammed a bullet in, took aim and fired! Inside the hut at a pile of rocks about two meters away!!!
Well, I now know what a ricochet sounds like. I don't know where the bullet went or where it exited the hut, but it made a hell of a scream when it did. He missed the rat too!
Another interesting incident was entirely my own fault. As I mentioned before, spearfishing was our favourite pastime, and we spent some time improving our gear. One of the latest things was to have a power head on the fishing spear.
The idea of this was to have some sort of explosive in the spearhead, so that when the spear hit the fish the explosive went off and drove the head into the fish.
The head had the line connected to it and was barbed, so the fish was well and truly held. That was the theory anyway.
With the aid of Bill's lathe, it wasn't difficult to fashion a head that would take a 22 shell, and to make the spear shaft fit in it with the end filed to produce a rim fire pin. The pin was held off the 22 shell with a spring. The idea was that when the spear hit the fish, the head stopped and the spear shaft carried on, hitting the shell, which went off and drove the head into the fish.
I made up and assembled the whole thing, and to test it I tossed it against the wooden wall of one of the huts. There was a bang and the 7mm 1.5 metre metal shaft shot backwards, missed me by inches, and landed about three metres behind me. The barbed head (12mm in diameter) went right through the wooden plank. I would never have believed the power that a little 22 bullet had.
Trials underwater were variable to say the least. If the spring was too light the acceleration of the spear when the gun was fired also fired the head which as it had the retrieving line attached to it would mean the loss of the shaft if in deep water.
It had another effect as Chris and I found when we went to fishing rock for yet another trial. We were not in the water long when a large turtle swam by. What a prize! I lined up on its neck (didn't want to damage its shell) and fired. Out went the shaft and right into its neck.
I braced for the expected tug of war, but no! The turtle, all four flippers at full power disappeared out to sea, with my precious spear shaft still in its neck. The power head had fired prematurely and lay on the bottom with the line attached. Oh well back to the drawing board. I eventually got it to work correctly but results were disappointing and I gave the idea away.
Something even sillier came about as follows. While walking up to the Met station one wet morning, after a stormy night, I noticed the 230 volt power line was tangled in some tree branches. I climbed the tree and tried to shake it loose but it stayed stuck. So I thought, "It's insulated so it should be OK to grab it and pull it free."
Another bad idea. I grabbed it and woke up a few seconds later flat on my back on the ground. No harm was done and I had freed the wire, but it taught me never to trust old and weathered insulation. I kept that little episode to myself.
The only time I actually hurt myself was an accident that really should never have happened.
Once again I was walking up to the Met station, this time on a pitch dark night. As it happened all the lights were out in the area outside the engine shed.
I was striding along going more or less by instinct, and wham went flat on my face, but this time with a lot of pain in face, chest and leg. I got back to the Hostel and made an impressive entry with blood everywhere. It seemed that Bill had been doing an overhaul on one of the engines and had left the engine blocks outside on the road.
I had tripped over one of these and landed face down on another. This one had all its studs facing up and that's where my face landed. Apart from scratches and gouges no real damage was done as luckily the studs had missed my eyes. For that I was very grateful!