Taranaki 2516m, P2309m, North Island, New Zealand.  At sunset - photo Rob Woodall.

Introduction

New Zealand’s North Island has several volcanoes. Some are highly active … mercifully most are not. However, if you want to bag the big hills then you need to take on the livelyish ones. Deana and I were touring Te Ika-a-Māui, the Māori name for the North Island of NZ, last January, and so gave them a go as a warm up for even bolder climbing adventures with our youngest son, who lives in Wanaka on South Island.

Mount Tarawera

Our first volcanic visit was to Mount Tarawera, 1111m, P668m, which is about thirty minutes from the lakeside town of Rotorua - a sort of sulphurous Aviemore (Scotland). It last erupted in 1886 with a pyroclastic explosion so huge that many of the nearby villages disappeared under a choking layer of scoria, ash and mud. Some 120 people in total were killed and the then-famous Pink and White Terraces, the largest silica sinter deposits on earth, were completely obliterated as the surrounding landscape was reshaped into the Waimangu Volcanic Valley, now a geothermal park.

The mountain is owned by the Tuhourangi and Ngati Rangatihi people, the local Māori tribes, and for many years after the eruption Tarawera was used by them as a burial ground. It remains “tapu", a Māori term that means inviolable or sacrosanct. Things or places which are tapu must be left alone and may not be approached or interfered with. In some cases, they should not even be spoken of.

Today, visits to the mountain are only allowed as part of a guided tour with Kaitiaki Adventures. It may be £90 a pop, but for this you get driven high-speed up two-thirds of the mountain on the most rutted track I’ve ever experienced, either getting to banter with the driver upfront or bounce your spleen into submission at the back … I chose the former on the way up and the latter on the way down.

Once at the road-head the crater walk that we were about to undertake comes into view. The lush green forest and bush we have careened up suddenly ends and the landscape before us is now made up of desolate ochre and black rock as we peer into the volcanic bowl below. Before we can take a further foot onto the mountain our Māori guide performs a traditional blessing, thanking the spirits of Māori chiefs who inhabit Mt Tarawera for letting us visit their grounds and asking for a safe walk.

To be honest, it’s a pretty straightforward circular walk at leisurely pace, given the mixed-ability group of clients and the regular stops for photos, chats and history lessons. The numerically palindromic 1111m summit is soon reached, affording views across Lake Tarawera westwards and as far as the still smoking White Island in the Bay of Plenty to the northeast. This island surprisingly erupted in December 2019, infamously killing 22 sightseers and their guides and injuring many others. Not unexpectedly it is now off limits to tourists.

The descent however requires an entertainingly steep scree run through volcanic dust, scoria and cinders to the crater bottom, followed by a shorter climb up the opposite crater face back to our awaiting 4x4 minibus and madcap driver. All-in-all, a pleasant wander on a fascinating mountain and a great introduction to volcano terrain and landform.

Mount Ruapehu

North Island’s highest point, Mount Ruapehu (2797m, P2797m) promised to be a tad more daunting. It was our first Antipodean Ultra attempt and would require ice axe and crampons, even in the mid-summer of January. Ruapehu lies within the Tongariro National Park, perhaps most famous as the location for the filmic Lord of the Rings Mount Doom (aka Mount Ngauruhoe) … a mountain that is so tapu that the Park Rangers ask all walkers to leave it well alone.  We duly obliged.

However, Mt Ruapehu is bigger, being the largest active volcano in New Zealand. It has three major peaks: Tahurangi (2,797m), Te Heuheu (2,755m) and Paretetaitonga (2,751m). The deep, active crater between the peaks fills with water between major eruptions and is known as "pit of noise" or "exploding pit" in Māori . Thankfully, it has not gone off big-style for quite a while. The last really notable event was on Christmas Eve 1953, when a natural dam holding water in the crater lake failed, draining it to produce a catastrophic lahar that destroyed a rail bridge 42 km away. Unfortunately, this occurred just as the Wellington-Auckland passenger train was crossing, causing it to tumble into the valley and swiftly end the lives all 151 staff and passengers aboard.

So, there are plenty of warnings on the hill informing the intrepid that it has the potential to erupt with little or no warning and telling you in no uncertain terms to get off the hill as quickly as possible should tremors begin, steam starts rising or rocks commence rolling.

Given its prime height and relatively easy access from an out-of-season ski resort, we anticipated an obvious footpath and to be joined by fellow baggers … but we saw no one, either ascending or descending. We drove up the long, steep and winding Chakune Mountain road to the Turoa ski centre car park situated south-west of the summit, and set off at first light. 

The first hour involved following a rough service road, then minor trails up through the various inactive ski lifts, cafes and tow lines. Once above the metal-work it was a matter of finding the easiest line through volcanic debris. There were a couple of narrow snow gullies to cross, but the sun had softened these. Suddenly we reached the crater rim. A short ridge-walk was now all that was required to attain the high point of Tahurangi and enjoy a well-earned view of an awakening New Zealand beneath us.

Getting down was simplified by the snow gullies, which could be quickly glissaded or walked down in crampons. The whole up-and-down took just five hours, which again raised the question why nobody else seemed keen to do it.

Mount Taranaki

Our third volcano ascent, Mount Taranaki, was the complete opposite. Apparently it is New Zealand’s most oft-climbed mountain, a fact borne out by the long train of stragglers struggling up its steep summit route on the morning we gave it a go. Although, to be fair, we also came across a 78-year old gentleman who was making his 71st bag of this classically cone-shaped volcano.

Taranaki (2516m, P2309m) is the second-highest mountain on North Island and is yet another Ultra. It is currently considered to be in a "quiet period".  The last eruption occurred in 1790 - making it among its longest on record. However, it is very close to the city of New Plymouth, so any activity that may occur would likely have significant impact.

The route we took is the typical one, starting at the North Egmont National Park visitor centre to the north-east of the mountain. From here a good track accurately called “The Puffer” leads to the Tahurangi Lodge, where a pre-climb bed can be booked if you fancy shaving an hour or so off your summiting-day walk. We couldn’t get a spot, so quickly passed it en route to the Lizard North Ridge. This starts with several flights of wooden stairs but then quickly becomes a test of stamina and resolve as you slowly pass a long series of marker poles … particularly on the scree sections they are very worn, many co-climbers seemingly sliding backwards almost as far as they stepped forwards … the sandals and deck shoes some were sporting not really being up to the task! 

Thankfully firm rock is eventually reached and then the crater top, which still had a bit of soft snow when we arrived. A final scree section saw us push through mist to a sunny summit with incredible views across the Tasman Sea.

Like almost everyone else, we descended by the same route, taking almost six hours to get there and back. Although the walk is relatively straightforward at that time of year in benign conditions, the weather systems on Taranaki seem to be a law unto themselves. We waited three days on the coast in glorious sunshine for the cloud to lift from the mountain, and it even came in again on our ascent day, which was forecast to be cloudless - so choose your day carefully with this one.