From ‘total loser’ to leader: How boot camp changed Rhys Eden Delamere’s life
Rhys Eden Delamere
Rhys Eden Delamere is not one to sugarcoat his views, especially on youth boot camps: “Every naughty shit needs to go there.”
His blunt declaration reflects his image of his 20-year-old self as a ‘total loser’ and his belief in targeted tough love, shaped by personal experience – because for Delamere, boot camp worked.
It was his turning point, his ‘hail Mary’ of redemption. “I’m so glad I did it. So glad I did it. It’s a pivotal moment in your life,” he says.
Delamere delivers his candid assessment from his cafe in Taumarunui, where he envisions his future as a series of golden roads leading to bright lights. He acknowledges that the path behind him leads directly back to the day his parents enrolled him in a Limited Service Volunteer (LSV) course in 2012.
The six-week LSV courses, run by the New Zealand Defence Force (NZDF) and the Ministry of Social Development (MSD), are cited as the blueprint for the Government’s new 12-month military-style academy – commonly referred to as ‘boot camps’ for young offenders. An initial pilot is underway in Palmerston North.
Since National Party leader Christopher Luxon announced the ‘boot camp’ policy in 2022, it has run into a hail of opposition claiming boot camps don’t work, that they’re not evidence-based, and criticising the Government for being unable to guarantee that the young participants would be safe from abuse.
When the Herald sat down to chat with Delamere he admitted to being unaware of the new academy boot camps or the coalition’s policy for tackling youth crime, but said the general idea had his full support.
“It prepares you for life. And I think that when you come out of that camp, you need to stick to that. Stick to those foundations.”
Delamere, 33, is a vibrant contradiction – tough and tame, funny and serious, staunch and soft. Never scary.
He’ll grab a broom with his massive tattooed arms and dance around it before it becomes his taiaha and he pulls a fierce pūkana.
Delamere is gay, Māori and embraces his unique character. “Honestly, I am out the gate – there’s not even a gate – I’m up the tree, off the clothesline.”
He says he’s comfortable in his skin, but he does react to online detractors and can be particular about photos.
He is determined to be himself, letting the judgement of others fold in the wind.
His life as a teenager was not comfortable in small-town Murupara in the remote Eastern Bay of Plenty.
As the oldest child Delamere was surrounded by a loving, supportive family – mum Melody, dad Edward and three siblings, including his sister Natalie who played for the winning Black Ferns 2021 Rugby World Cup team.
“I wasn’t the best when I was growing up. I think when I got to like a teenager, starting to figure myself out – when I mean figure myself out, like as in coming out gay – and finding it hard to be myself, in such a small community and being Māori.
“And obviously growing up in that small town, being gay is kind of frowned upon. You know, so I kind of went off the rails. And I kinda just started being a little f***head.
“Just making dumb decisions”.
Those decisions ranged from smoking weed to drinking and driving. He squandered sports opportunities – the NBA was his dream but he was dumped from a New Zealand basketball development team due to his behaviour.
He got into fights and attracted the attention of the police.
“That’s just the way it is. It’s just being young and dumb and girls and trying to prove yourself.
“The reason for my actions is I wasn’t being myself. You act in this certain manner to try and prove that you’re straight, but really, you’re not being your authentic self.”
Delamere is brutally self-critical, labelling his young self a ‘total loser’ “but I’m fine with it because guess what, that’s my past.”
When the chaos came to a head his parents suggested he enrol in the LSV course held a world away at Burnham Military Camp.
“It was the last straw”.
Despite having a supportive family, growing up gay in Murupara wasn't easy for Rhys Eden Delamere. Picture from top left, as a young boy, with his Nana Libya Heke Huata, with his mum Melody Delamere and his two cousins Derek and Kass. Photos / Supplied
LSV courses started in 1993 for 18 to 24-year-old eligible volunteers to get a fresh start, learn new skills and ultimately find employment. Hundreds of young people still roll through the programmes each year.
The NZDF uses a military method aimed at growing self-discipline, confidence and resilience.
It is not a holiday camp, which Delamere learned before even stepping on the grounds.
“These corporals came on the bus they said get the f..k off the bus.
“And I was like, I’m not getting off the f..king bus – don’t talk to me like that.”
And what happened?
Delamere stood alone and watched as every other participant was made to do 50 push-ups.
In his first moment, he realised his attitude was not the way to win friends or succeed because others would suffer.
This first lesson was just the beginning. The tipping point was on day two when his platoon sat in a circle and shared personal backgrounds.
“The stories I heard broke my heart – instantly.”
They were accounts of gang families, drugs and rape. One was from the person who would become his best mate and he’d watched his mum die.
“And then they come round to me, and I’m just sitting there like, just a spoilt little brat.
“My Mum and Dad have given me the world, all they’ve tried to do is good by me, and I just threw it in their faces.”
Sitting there, stung by humility, Delamere felt an urgent need to apologise to his whānau.
During the next six weeks, revelling in early morning starts, strict protocols and fitness discipline, Delamere excelled and earned multiple prizes and accolades and finished with a job in Christchurch.
Taumarunui is not a world away from Murupara.
Although his new home is a bit larger, it’s still a North Island rural town with green hilly horizons and a country vibe and Delamere moved in for love.
Almost smack bang in the middle of the main drag, which is bustling when the Herald visits, he runs Trunk Coffee House, one of three businesses he operates with his partner Glen Bason.
Delamere credits his partner Glen Bason for giving him the support he needs to pursue his goals. Photo / Supplied
His current mission is to boost the social media presence of @trunkcoffeehouse, which feature his own mix of absolute hilarity, soul-searching and inspiration.
During the past year, his TikTok, Instagram and especially Facebook have started to kick off, getting hundreds of thousands of views, enough for Delamere to get promotional work.
He also has dedicated followers who feel a connection.
“People are reaching out to me with heavy stories and watching me helps them.
“It’s heavy on my shoulders but at the same time I’m glad to be doing it.”
Recently, old schoolmates visited with a cohort of Murupara youth set up for a motivational talk.
Delamere got down on their level and headed off their get-rich-quick schemes.
“I said, you don’t have to be a drug dealer to be a millionaire. Yeah, so put your mind to it.
“They started coming up with careers, like, I want to be a builder, I want to be a logging truck driver.”
He also told them he wanted to be a multi-millionaire in 10 years by starting more businesses and working hard.
“What do you want to be in 10 years? Where do you see yourself? You know, that kind of made, maybe had a little switch in their head.”
Delamere can envision the future pathways of young people all forked with choices and potholed with challenges – much like the road he once travelled.
For him, the best way he can see to clear the way is by sharing his story.
The LSV camps are not for everyone.
Some of Delamere’s co-participants dropped out, dipped back into drugs or even ended up in jail, he says.
Figures released by MSD show 70% of the participants completed the full six-week courses between 2018 and 2023.
An independent review of the LSV conducted for the Minister of Defence in 2018 found that 13 to 18 weeks after a Burnham-based course, 52% of trainees were working and 16% were studying.
It claimed the figures are fairly consistent with MSD’s outcomes data, which recorded off-benefit outcomes of 56% at the 16-week point for all LSV programmes in 2016-17.
Despite LSVs being touted as the blueprint for the coalition Government’s new military academies, there are vast differences.
For a start, the first pilot, which started in late July, runs for 12 months and does not involve voluntary applications.
Ten teenagers, already housed in youth justice residences and who have two convictions with a sentence of at least 10 years, have been selected after clinical assessment and consultation with their families and Family Court judges.
While NZDF has assisted with training, the course will be run by Oranga Tamariki and their staff.
“There’s no harm in trying,” says Delamere.
“I would love to speak about this. I would speak about this in front of the whole of New Zealand, of why I think... it’s a good opportunity.
“All these re-offenders need this because they need to get out of their bad habits.
“You know what I mean? Get away from it, brother. Get away from it.”
As cowboys celebrate, protesters say it’s cruel
Rodeos draw crowds across New Zealand each summer season but their future is uncertain as animal welfare concerns draw criticism and protest. Photojournalist Mike Scott spent a day at the rodeo.
After entering the gate, you certainly knew it was cowboy territory.
There were boots with spurs. Belts with giant silver buckles holding up faded denim jeans. Collared shirts, and of course, cowboy hats.
It was the uniform of competitors, organisers, and volunteers - women and men, boys and girls.
It made it unmistakable that you were at the rodeo.
There was a final accessory to this outfit and that was the swagger. Everyone with a cowboy hat and boots had it.
So much confidence and cool under the scorching February sun.
This was the first Waikato Rodeo held in a couple of years. The event in 2023 was a victim of Cyclone Gabrielle and 2022 yet another of Covid’s.
So, 2024 at the Kihikihi Domain, just south of Te Awamutu, was a return of sorts and under all those wide-brimmed hats were smiles and greetings and catch-ups.
It was a social event as much as it was a competition.
Lance Limmer, 73, knows this. He has been coming to the Waikato Rodeo for 60-odd years ever since his father took him when he was 10.
In those days it was held a bit further out of town on Tiki Road and raised money for the local school, he reminisced.
Limmer reckons a great thing about the Waikato Rodeo was it being so central for all the cowboys and keen spectators.
He figured between 4000-7000 would turn up for the entertainment. (The final count was roughly 7000, breaking all attendance records for the Waikato Rodeo and doubling the usual average crowd numbers).
“This is not something you can see every weekend.
“It’s quite a popular sport. There’s a bloody lot of people (arriving)”
A mate of Limmer’s leaned over his shoulder - “People think rodeo is dying. It’s not.”
But not everyone is a fan.
In recent years animal rights groups – or the ‘no-gooders’ as Limmer describes them – have been protesting against rodeos in New Zealand.
It’s made holding them - about 30 each summer season - a contentious issue and it is no different here in Kihikihi, where a group of ‘no-gooders’ have announced their intention to protest at the domain gates later in the day.
A sign glares a stark warning on the steel fence next to the gate where crowds stream through: “No H.D. cameras or videoing equipment allowed’.
Underneath the words is a picture of a photographer with a zoom lens.
The sign is a symbol of the conflict between rodeo associations and animal rights groups.
Protesters have taken photos and video purportedly showing abusive acts at events, and shared them on social media and banners to support their claims that rodeo is animal cruelty disguised as entertainment.
Rodeo supporters say the images are taken out of context and insist the animals are not mistreated.
Rough stock events such as bronco, bull and steer riding use flank straps lashed around animals’ abdomens. Protesters say they are pulled so tight to cause discomfort and antagonise them to ‘buck’.
Calf roping involves chasing young calves and lassoing their necks, before forcing them to the ground to be bound by rope.
In steer wrestling a cowboy will chase the animal on his horse before jumping on its back, twisting it from the head and neck to force it to the ground.
The activists claim the animals are stressed and frightened and at risk of serious injury and even death.
Alice Hicks, 72, who retired from farming in her 50s, is the first protester to arrive at the stone gates of Kihikihi Domain, a touch earlier than the rest of her fellow activists from Animal Action Direct.
While she waits a steady flow of spectator vehicles drive into the domain parking area.
“I’m depressed to see how many people come here and cheer on animals being terrified and terrorised and being treated in a brutal manner.
“If farmers distressed or hurt or injured animals like they do in rodeo, they would be prosecuted.
“It’s only because they have the so-called code that allows them to do this and because we’ve got weak-kneed politicians who will not abolish the code that allows this to happen.”
The code Hicks is referring to is the Code of Welfare - Rodeos developed by the Ministry of Primary Industries (MPI) in 2014.
In addition to the code, in 2018, the National Animal Welfare Advisory Committee (NAWAC) recommended additional non-regulated processes to improve the welfare of animals used in rodeos.
In response, and to manage all the oversight required, the New Zealand Rodeo and Cowboys Association (NZRCA) established its animal welfare committee, which instigates improvements to animal treatment.
This advisory group, named the Rodeo Animal Welfare Committee (RAWC), includes members from the rodeo association, SPCA, MPI, the New Zealand Vet Association, and is facilitated by an independent chairperson.
Back at the gate, Direct Animal Action spokesperson Apollo Taito says the codes and recommendations don’t sufficiently protect stock, saying animal deaths are happening.
His group, along with others such as Save Animals From Exploitation (SAFE), the New Zealand Animal Law Association (NZALA) and People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA) are calling for rodeos to be banned. The SPCA advocates for animals not to be used.
“The ultimate one for us is a complete ban,” says Taito.
“If we can get a ban on the worst aspects of rodeo, that’ll be a big win for us.
“That stuff like flank straps, calf roping - and they even still use electric prods - that sort of stuff.
“And we know if we can get rid of those, it probably would be the end of rodeos because they really depend on getting that sort of fear reaction from the animals.
“The whole entertainment they talk about is quite dependent on the animals having the experience of fear and pain.”
In 2022, the NZALA and Safe took a High Court case against the Agriculture Minister and NAWAC, alleging that rodeos contravene the Animal Welfare Act.
The case was dismissed by the court, which said the consultation process run by NAWAC was the place to challenge rodeo’s animal welfare standards.
As it turns out, this consultation process is underway right now. NAWAC is reviewing the rodeo welfare code and currently taking submissions from key stakeholders which includes animal rights groups, before asking for public submissions.
In fact, as the twenty or so protesters lined the gate, members of NAWAC were inside Kihikihi Domain asking questions and observing proceedings as the show rolled on.
Rodeo is a sport, a culture, a community and a spectacle.
Slick commentators run a fun fast show with plenty of music and hype.
One of them is dressed as a clown and throws merchandise and water balloons into the crowd, mostly to eager and delighted children.
The sun sears the arena as hoofs churn the dust, making the air thick and gritty.
On one side the crowd is shaded while the other side burns.
There is respite in the numerous food and drink caravans and stalls.
A few beers and RTDs are going down but the drinking is not obviously excessive.
One guy does a ‘shoey’ – pouring a bourbon RTD into his footwear before skulling the contents. Kudos though - he was wearing some nice cowboy boots.
In the afternoon, after the grand entry parade national anthem and official opening, the marque events such as the open bull and bronco riding kick-off.
Callum Tahau is a cowboy through and through and competes in Open Saddle Bronc.
Watching him aboard the chestnut bronco, fully leaping into the air, is to see a man focused, pumped, eyes wide and teeth gritted. He’s hanging on like his life depends on it.
It’s a heck of a watch and some will be cheering for the flailing horse in this contest between beast and man.
Tahau holds on for the required eight seconds, scores 69 points and comes second.
He lives near Ohakune under Mt Ruapehu. He started competing in rodeo at just five years old after being introduced to it by his mum who was a barrel rider.
“I went from calf riding through to steer riding through the second division bulls and then I picked up saddle bronc when I was, gosh, I think it was 18.
“I picked it up, started it and then never looked back - it’s just the adrenaline rush, I think
“And the whole rodeo is sort of like a massive family so whenever you get here it’s like your holiday as well.
Apart from the competition, rodeo is a social, family and cultural event ...It was a hot day full of entertainment for the thousands of fans who turned out for the Waikato Rodeo held at the Kihikihi Domain on the weekend. The event also had protesters at the gate showing their oppositin to rodeos and animal cruelty....Photo / Mike Scott
“You’ve got plenty of people that are all too happy to either help you or just have a good yarn with you.”
Tahau is unperturbed by the claims of animal mistreatment.
“We have to abide by every rule and all of our animals, they’re trained like athletes. They have to be fit. They have to be sound.
“Every rodeo has a vet inspecting the stock animals before and during the event.”
It’s NZRCA’s policy to have a veterinarian and to have their own trained and appointed animal welfare officers, on-site reporting on the event.
Additionally, MPI inspectors now attend each rodeo and report back to MPI.
Former NZRCA President Lyal Cocks, who also serves as the association’s representative on the RAWC, is responsible for collating all the reports to aid in the formulation of recommendations to improve their animal treatment guidelines.
He outlines numerous changes the association implemented before the 2018/19 season, such as reducing the time for events like rope and tie from 60 seconds to 30.
Another is having all contractors who supply stock approved by the NZRCA board and required to prove proper breeding, training and preparation of animals.
“There’s a perception out there, or the view, that the animals are taken out of the farmer’s paddock and taken down to the rodeo arena,” Cocks says.
“That’s just not the case.”
Instances of mistreatment, such as harsh roping techniques or improper use of whips or spurs, will be reported by officials or judges. Consistent offending will result in disqualification, Cocks says.
While no disqualifications have occurred this season, they have been issued in the past.
Yet, even with all the scrutiny, animal deaths do happen, including a year ago when three – two bulls and a horse – were killed within three days, reigniting calls for a ban.
According to Cocks, deaths are rare. He says farm animals are at more risk than those used in rodeo.
Statistics collected through NZRCA’s reporting and supplied by Cocks, show during the 2022/23 season there was a total of 9789 times an animal competed. The number of injuries reported, which included minor wounds or harm caused on transport trucks and in yards, was 52.
In 2020/21 it was 13,325 competes for 75 injuries.
“That’s a 0.5% injury rate based on the number of animals that are competing.
“So, it is very, very low and we try and keep that as low as possible. That’s why we have all the scrutiny but occasionally we do have animals die.”
Tahau acknowledges rodeo is a niche sport and most people will only ever see it from the outside rather than experience it.
He tells a story where city folk, unfamiliar with rodeo beyond thinking it was ‘a bit of rough and tumble’, quizzed him about being a cowboy because of his jeans and boots.
He ended up inviting them to his farm for a rodeo practice session and reckons he opened their eyes.
“I didn’t have a bucking horse but I put a flank rope on my horse and did it up tight and the horse didn’t do a thing - it just kept walking as usual.
“And I said, the only thing that makes a horse buck is the actual horse.
“The flank is a very soft blinking thing that doesn’t even hurt them. It’s woollen, it tickles them.”
When asked what he’d lose if rodeo was banned his answer is “everything”.
“The entire lifestyle, the love for it. It’s my sport.
“It’s like somebody playing rugby That becomes part of their life.
“And not only that, how many hundreds of people are here competing?
“I’d never see some of them again, or, well it wouldn’t be as often. It’d be like you’d lose a big family.”
Outside the domain Alice Hicks has no sympathy – she saves it for the horses and cattle they ride or chase.
“I draw this analogy for everyone who reads your article or thinks about this.
“If they have a pet cat or a pet dog how would they feel about their cat or dog being chased across an arena, have a rope thrown around their neck and yanked off their feet, thrown on the ground and have a man get on top of them and tie their feet up?
“No farmer would do that. No true animal lover would do that.
“Why do they do it here?”
The King Air 350: The unexpected guardian in our skies
Air warfare specialist Sergeant Daniel Wilks operates the high-resolution cameras aboard the King Air 350.
One of New Zealand’s smallest Air Force planes has emerged as an essential protector in our skies, playing a pivotal role in shielding a key resource.
During the past 18 months, two twin-engine King Air 350 aircraft, have patrolled the oceans to find, observe, and record fishing vessels for the Ministry for Primary Industries.
This vital surveillance role in protecting New Zealand’s expansive Exclusive Economic Zone, used to be covered by the now-retired veteran P3 Orion aircraft.
The Orions have been replaced by four new P8A Poseidon’s, which have taken over the surveillance duties, but now share fisheries’ patrols with 42 Squadron’s two King Air 350s equipped with surface radar and high-resolution cameras.
The New Zealand Herald was given a first-hand experience of a King Air in a morning run from Ohakea Air Force Base out over the Tasman Sea near Westport.
The plane is not large, especially with the high-tech surveillance kit and screens crowding the deck, but it’s not about size but capability, said Squadron Leader Craig Clark.
“I guess the aircraft in the NZDF (New Zealand Defence Force) come in all shapes and sizes.”
The Australian Royal Air Force uses King Air craft for maritime observations in the Pacific and Clark has witnessed United States agencies using the same machine also for fisheries’ monitoring.
“So, I guess if it’s good enough for the US, it’s probably good enough for New Zealand.”
It took about an hour flying at 22,000 feet (6700m) from Ohakea, near Palmerston North, to begin the patrol off the clear and stunning West Coast.
On approach the radar has already located a handful of boats and the plane descends to 2000ft to begin investigating several fishing vessels.
Air warfare specialists, or officers such as Clark, man the surveillance equipment, requesting and directing flight passes from the pilots.
Sergeant Daniel Wilks, the air warfare specialist onboard, operates the camera with a device like a gaming controller.
“The electro-optic camera is designed for use on aircraft like this. It has four different cameras on it, two infrared ones that we use when there’s no visual light, and two visual light cameras that we use during the daytime.”
The camera can easily detect targets from 10 nautical miles (18km) and see details such as the vessel name from 5 nautical miles (9km). Flying closer allows them to watch the vessel crew and equipment in surprising detail.
The last action of the King Air was flying over several boats at 300 feet (90m), skimming the waves, before heading up and back to base.
The plane can flex some aviation muscle. It can fly missions for about three-and-a-half hours, cruise at 300 knots (556km/h) and reach a height ceiling, if required, of 35,000 feet (about the cruising altitude of a commercial jet).
Such specs make it ideal to run surveillance missions 50 to 100 nautical miles (93 to 186km) off the New Zealand coast.
The main purpose of 42 Squadron, which is made up of four King Air 350s, is training pilots and air warfare specialists, and VIP transport.
With a recent Air Force initiative named Plan Astra the squadron has been earmarked for a rejig to improve its operational output.
Wing Commander Hayden Sheard, the commanding officer flying training, said the King Air 350 had proven to be a versatile and cost-effective aircraft in both surveillance and transport of personnel.
The focus of changes to 42 Squadron was on opening up the utility of the King Air 350 so the larger Air Force planes, the P-8A Poseidon and C-130 Hercules, could work further afield and into the Pacific, he said.
“It has the potential to do a much wider range of surveillance tasks and if we were asked to do something different, we’d be able to do it,” Clark said.
“We could transit to the southwest Pacific, to the Pacific Islands, and do patrols there.
“We haven’t started doing that as yet, but, yeah, there’s a lot of potential there. And 42 Squadron will essentially go out and do anything that we’re asked to do when we’re asked to do it.”
Mission: Antarctica
Jacinda Ardern contemplates a bygone time of explorers in the Nimrod Hut built by Ernest Shackleton. Visiting the hut was a life-long dream for the Prime Minister.
Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern visited Antarctica last month for the first time.
The purpose of the trip was to celebrate the 65th anniversary of Scott Base and see the scientific research, environmental protection, heritage conservation and day-to-day operations performed by Kiwis working in Antarctica.
It was a first-hand experience of the challenges of getting to, living on and getting off the ice.
Want to catch a boomerang? Fly to Antarctica.
It’s the cute colloquial term describing flights south that return to Christchurch without landing on the ice.
It’s common and the Prime Minister and her accompanying party got a taste of it.
Day one and after two hours on the RNZAF C130, the captain informs that crosswinds on the landing strip are possibly too strong.
Better to turn around now rather than fly the full seven hours each way or diminish the fuel beyond the point of no return.
It’s disappointing but I still need a shot for the news. I was obviously hoping for a wide, well-lit icy expanse for a backdrop but instead I’m stuck in this dark, stark, noisy cabin.
Thankfully, the Prime Minister and her fishing authority partner, Clarke Gayford, like to read. She is deep into an Ernest Shackleton bio and he’s with a tale of chasing fish pirates.
The turnaround puts immediate pressure on whether Ardern will finally make it to Antarctica after previous planned trips were scuppered by Covid-19.
You see, beds at Scott Base are at a premium.
The demand is intense thanks to its new redevelopment kicking off and scientists wanting to resume Covid-disrupted projects, along with accommodating the necessary operations staff.
The Prime Minister’s visit, like all others before, was unashamedly going to be a highlights reel.
Get in, meet the staff, visit the explorer’s huts, acknowledge the Erebus disaster site, experience the iconic Dry Valleys, see science in action, call on the Americans at McMurdo Station and learn more about the redevelopment - and then leave.
The original plan was for the pared-down tour party to do all this over three nights.
Now it has to be crunched over two — Scott Base needs the beds.
Antarctica’s expanse is hard to gauge even when you’re experiencing just a slice of the continent.
The Ross Ice Shelf, where we land in a US Airforce C17 Globemaster, is the size of France.
The mountains of the Royal Society Range are just over there, about 100km away.
The volcanic summit of Erebus looks like it can be conquered in an afternoon but actually rises 3794m from the sea — higher than Aoraki/Mt Cook.
The South Pole is still 1350km away and we’ve already traveled 3800 from Christchurch.
It’s bamboozling flying over the huge glaciers spilling down from the Antarctic plateau. I love the scale.
Here you need to be big to have any significance, and no one is.
Like any government department, Antarctica New Zealand wants to show the Prime Minister of the day their work is vital, efficient and in the nation’s best interest.
They need not go in for the hard sell.
In 2021, the Government approved $344 million to redevelop the aged Scott Base because it is the kingpin of New Zealand’s ongoing presence in Antarctica.
Think of life on the ice and it’s probably of penguins, seals and Orca. These days there are quite a few humans about in a wide mix of nationalities — Americans, Italians, Australians, Chinese, Koreans, Russians, Chileans, South Africans, Norwegians and the British.
And the Prime Minister is obviously aware of this.
“It is a place that relies on co-operation and the foundation for that is, of course, the Antarctic Treaty,” she says.
“We are though, just as we were in a period where internationally you see that parts of the world are becoming increasingly contested, Antarctica is part of that too.
"And so it’s incredibly important that New Zealand maintains its strong position over the role it plays here and over the Ross Dependency. But it’s also important that we maintain our position of peace, environmental protection and research.”
Apart from maintaining New Zealand’s place on the ice, Scott Base is the staging post for Antarctic science projects and heritage conservation work.
The science includes studying platelet ice at the intersection of the ice shelves and sea ice, the Emperor Penguin populations, and marine drifters (plankton) in the Ross Sea ecosystem.
It’s all about how fast the ice sheets might melt, how Antarctica will change and how this will impact the rest of the planet in this warming world.
Important stuff if we are to have any understanding of our vulnerable future.
But it’s possibly the past that had the biggest emotional impact on the Prime Minister.
Ardern is a self-confessed fan of the early Antarctic explorers, especially Ernest Shackleton.
She had the chance to enter his Nimrod Hut at Cape Royds by herself. A chance to reflect on the reality of the hardships those explorers sustained.
I ask what it means to be in Shackleton’s Hut and her voice wobbles and eyes well.
It’s a big deal to have made it here.
“His name became synonymous with leadership because he saved his men,” she says.
“I think he knew success would come down to his ability to keep the team together and really hard times. So there’s a lot to take away on that.”
Mt Erebus looms large above Scott Base and on its northern slopes, the site of the crash of Air New Zealand flight TE901 casts a large shadow on the Kiwi psyche.
It is the country’s greatest peacetime disaster in terms of lives lost with 257 dying as the DC10 careened into the mountain in 1979.
For Prime Minister Ardern and Air New Zealand board chair Dame Therese Walsh, their first Antarctic journey held particular significance.
In 2019 during a ceremony on the 40th anniversary of the flight, Ardern issued a “wholehearted and wide-reaching” apology on behalf of the New Zealand Government which owned the airline when the disaster occurred.
“After 40 years, on behalf of today’s Government, the time has come to apologise for the actions of an airline then in full state ownership; which ultimately caused the loss of the aircraft and the loss of those you loved.”
At the same ceremony, in front of families of victims, Walsh also said sorry.
“I apologise on behalf of an airline, which 40 years ago failed in its duty of care to its passengers and staff.
“And I apologise again on behalf of the airline for the way in which the families of those lost on Mt Erebus were treated in the aftermath of the accident. Better care should have been taken of you.”
I can’t know what was on Walsh’s mind as we flew above the crash site.
For me, looking down at Lewis Bay, I did not enjoy picturing the large passenger plane bearing south toward Erebus at a height lower than we were in the helicopter.
The only consolation was knowing the occupants on the flight of a lifetime had been oblivious to the catastrophe that was about to end their lives.
Back at Scott Base, Walsh and Ardern, posed for a photo by the Koru memorial.
It was dedicated and blessed by the former Anglican Dean of Christchurch, the Reverend Peter Beck, in memory of all lives lost in Antarctica.
Sadly, so many of those lives were from flight TE901.
The plan to get home was to leave late on Friday, try to sleep (although, I’d be working) and land in New Zealand as the Saturday sun rose.
It didn’t pan out.
As the haze of smoke entered the aged RNZAF C130 fuselage, it was obvious there was an engine problem and we weren’t going anywhere.
Maybe in an effort to gee up a demoralised crew, the PM quipped that replacements for the airforce's aging transport planes had already been paid for.
Again, it was disappointing. What would happen now? We had learned the American C17’s were also broken down in Christchurch and wouldn’t be flying to the ice in the next day or two.
Somehow Antarctic Operations general manager Simon Trotter and his capable Scott Base staff found beds for everyone and we woke to the news we had a flight home with the Italians.
It was that Antarctic co-operation in action. The Italians used US facilities to load and fuel their plane, then gave a lift to a handful of Kiwis and Americans before landing at a New Zealand airport, all before the Saturday sun set.
