Inside Auckland’s morning ‘wake-up’ patrol for homeless rough sleepers
As the Government prepares to introduce police “move on” orders for the homeless, others are trying a more subtle approach. Herald journalists Mike Scott and Michael Craig join Auckland Council’s compliance wardens on their early-morning wake-up call of rough sleepers across the central city.
The sun is up; Auckland is breathing.
“Morning, sir. Just getting everybody up for the day, please.”
A trickle of commuters moves up Queen St.
“Sir, right now you’re obstructing a bench, and everyone else in the public space needs to use it.”
Little movement, more coaxing – who is this character? He is a new face for the council compliance wardens – not a member of the usual street whānau.
What’s his story?
This is the central city wake-up call. At first, it seems mild, almost like cajoling a teen from slumber.
“Sir. Sir, we’re going to give you about two to five minutes, okay? Is that all right alright with you? Is that enough time for you to get up? Sir?”
It is patient yet persistent. Experience is at play.
The day began, when the morning light was weak, on the seventh floor of the city council building on Albert St.
Ten community compliance wardens, part of the council’s Community Safety Team, are discussing the challenges ahead, starting with the “wake-up”.
Senior compliance officer Malcolm Heinrich facilitates the brief. The most important information comes from the voice on the speaker of his phone.
A member of the team has monitored the city’s CCTV network overnight and shares what their watchful eyes have seen on the streets.
It’s been a typical night for a Wednesday.
The full briefing is a who‑where‑what description. Nicholas was by Kiwibank, Graham was there. Albert Park, Lower Queen St, Federal St. Drinking. Sleeping.
Many of the rough sleepers are known to the team and, thanks to the cameras, so are their behaviours.
About 25 wake‑ups will be needed in the central city as the workers and shoppers arrive for the day.
This team are part of the frontline addressing homelessness in Auckland. It is a tough gig, especially with the ethos to avoid using a stick – because it doesn’t work, I’m told.
And on this morning, I will be reminded that everyone has a story, a sad reason why they sleep on grey concrete pavements.sidewalks.
The final instructions as the team rise from their seats – high-vis over slash-proof vests, body cameras and torches attached: “Let’s get ready, let’s go out – be safe.”
Around two years ago, as one of the daily commuters arriving into town at the bottom of Queen St, council compliance manager Adrian Wilson would see rough sleepers on benches, in doorways and on the pavement.
“There was a lot of issues back then with increased encampments and homelessness," he recalls.
“We started the wardens probably 2.5 years ago – it was born out of what we used to have, City Watch, which was a security company that used to go out and do the patrols for us.
“The mayor gave us some funding to expand what we were doing. We went in‑house, no security companies, so we trained our own people, and then we developed this network of compliance wardens in the central city.”
The council now employs 34 wardens covering the city to support a safe environment.
Eighteen are dedicated to the central area, covering shifts from 7am to 10pm – every day of the year.
“They’ve got the patience of a saint, you know, because we don’t have powers, we can’t physically move people, we can’t make them move on or pack up their stuff.
“It’s just that relationship building; some of them we will know them by their first names and they’ll know our officers by their first names, and they just have that good rapport.
“And they know sometimes they’ll get a bit grumpy. These guys [the wardens] just patiently wait and calm them down and then we get compliance.”
Ansh Parmar and Roimata Farrington are a team this morning, patrolling downhill.
The subjects of their second wake-up, after the man on the bench, are under lumpy fleece blankets over cardboard set up around an empty shop entrance.
“Morena, how are you, sir?” chimes Farrington.
What looked like two people is actually three. They know the drill, though – they’ve been woken by the team before. Farrington even receives a hug.
The process is not fast. There is the waking, the stretching, standing, moving stiff bodies in front of the thickening stream of pedestrians.
Then they have to pack – every day the rough sleepers are moving house, folding blankets and cardboard, filling bags or trolleys and dispersing.
Both Parmar and Farrington are watching closely, seeing ways to smooth this daily transition or assist with problems or maybe help direct where they should go.
“Morning, sir. How are you? Are you okay? Do you need to see the doctor?
“There’s some breakfast up at the Mission if you need. And I believe they offer medical assistance as well if you need.”
Patience – the pair seem to have it in spades today – but there is a purpose to this empathetic approach, Wilson says.
“The patrols are very much about trying to make way for businesses to operate, to try and make sure that the footpaths are clear.
“It’s to assist business to get on with doing their business without being interrupted through obstructions.”
Last year, a Heart of the City survey of CBD business owners was scathing.
Most said homelessness, excessive begging and frightening anti-social behaviour were harming their trade, and that the council and government were not doing enough to stop it.
Afterwards, Wilson spoke with concerned shop owners, identified “hotspots” and increased patrols in those public spaces.
“We did an awful lot of work there patrolling, virtually every hour or so, to make sure it was clear of any obstruction and any nuisance.”
Because the wardens have no jurisdiction on private property, he notes, progress requires multi-agency co-ordination – including Heart of the City’s own safety team and police.
It’s not always a softly-softly approach. After all, this team are about compliance and serve the entire city.
Encampments – when tarpaulins or pallets and solid materials are used to build shelters – are not tolerated. Bylaws prohibiting them give the wardens teeth to ensure they are dismantled, Wilson notes.
A makeshift camp had recently sprung up beside the Central City Library. The inhabitants were asked to move, warned to remove their belongings. After a few days, a team arrived and cleared the area, taking away the abandoned rubbish, he said.
Yet even in this scenario, the team, supported by outreach services, were observing, assessing, listening to stories and waiting for the “chink” – when someone says, “help me”.
It might not be the hardcore street whānau, who are usually struggling with mental health or drug and alcohol addictions – although this does happen. It is often the new faces.
What is their story? What led them to the streets?
There’s the one about “Fred”, who was lying under a blanket on a bench in Aotea Square.
It took 10 days of gentle inquiry and approach from compliance officer Gina Woolston before Fred opened up.
It turned out he was a cancer patient receiving chemotherapy. He couldn’t afford rent on top of the transport to and from the hospital, plus he was usually too tired to travel, so he chose to sleep rough.
All he wanted was a bed to lie in.
Gina referred Fred to an outreach provider. He was immediately placed in emergency housing and later got a motel near the hospital for the remainder of his treatment.
He then returned to his flat.
Inside a quirky fold of a building wall stands a length of vertical cardboard set up like a privacy partition. Beside it is an already loaded supermarket trolley.
“Morning, Angela.” Farrington knows this sleeper.
Parmar leans over the partition. “Can you sit up for us, please?”
A passerby from the growing throng quips, “A bucket of wet water does the trick.”
Farrington: “Pardon?”
The pedestrian passerby repeats, “A bucket of wet water does the trick.”
Parmar looks bemused. Farrington kindly rebukes him: “No, no – no one wants to be woken up with water!”
The unknown passerby walks on.
Back to work. “Morning, Angela. How are you? How have you been? Time for your morning coffee now.”
At the bottom of Queen St, different teams of wardens – some accompanied by outreach workers – cross paths, actioning their own wake-ups.
Having organisations like Auckland City Mission, Lifewise or Kāhui Tū Kaha join the patrols is “an absolute godsend,” Wilson says.
“It’s the best way to find rough sleepers, because you’re going to find them first thing in the morning or last thing at night. So, they [outreach workers] find their interactions with us really useful because we know where the people are, rather than aimlessly going around the city.
“And then they also work on referrals, so if we come across somebody during the day that we want to refer ... we contact them, and they can come straight out to that individual.”
Since October, “when the Government were looking to take a lot more action”, this co-ordinated approach has moved about 50 individuals into housing, Wilson says.
A mix of long-term rough sleepers and new faces – like the man from Parmar and Farrington’s first wake-up.
Asked about the Government’s plans to give police "move-on" powers for rough sleepers and excessive beggars, Wilson is pragmatic.
“I used to be a cop, and I always go, I want to see what that legislation looks like. Unless you see the detail, it’s hard to comment.”
At the entrance to Queens Wharf, the sun is much higher and hotter, and commuters, cyclists and cars are cross-threading the laneways.
Looking back toward the CBD, Wilson says the homeless situation is not a crisis.
“Yeah, we’ve got 25 here. If you look at all the suburbs of Auckland, you’ve got a lot more, but from a concentration point of view, 25 is not a massive number.
“It’s 25 with, like I say, complex issues and that’s where I think we need to get into the detail and try and give them some support for their individual issues, get them into programmes... I always say, compassion beats compliance every single day.
“If we said they’re breaching a bylaw and put them before the court, we’re gonna be 18 months down the line before it’s heard. That’s not addressing the here and now.”
Auckland has its daytime rhythm; it’s time to return.
“So, we’ll follow up on Angela, Graham – the guy at McDonald’s,” Farrington says.
Parmar nods, and the pair retrace their measured steps.
Along the way, it’s friendly – they are known, and they know people.
“How are you? You been good?
“I haven’t seen you in a long time. It’s good to see you.”
Angela is gone. Graham is gone.
“I like helping people,” Farrington explains.
“They are our own people as well, you know, like Māori – and because I’m Māori, I want to help my people ... but everyone, actually. Everyone.”
It is now close to 9am. The wake-up call is the first part of a compliance warden’s shift.
Parmar has been in the role for two years and wasn’t sure what to expect at first.
“It was nice to see if you could just bring a smile to somebody’s face – helping the community and keeping everybody safe.”
In front of McDonald’s, Queen St is in full flow, and the bench is empty.
The city is awake.
Tongariro fire: Car wheel sparked costly blaze, drone photos reveal scale of destruction
The fire that tore through more than 3000ha of Tongariro National Park in November was accidentally lit by a spark from a car wheel and cost nearly $1 million to extinguish.
An investigation by Fire and Emergency New Zealand and the police found a “car tyre rim” created sparks on State Highway 47, igniting dry roadside vegetation. There was no evidence of deliberate ignition or criminal intent, Acting Detective Inspector Mike Deegan said.
The November wildfire spread fast because of high winds and dry conditions. Fire crews spent days bringing it under control and the effort cost $995,330, with the use of helicopters amounting to more than $800,000.
The devastation was compounded in early December when a second fire, also blamed on sparks from a passing vehicle, burned another 300ha.
While green shoots are pushing through the charred earth of the park, ecologists say the battle will be keeping fast-spreading weeds from taking over.
The Herald was given rare permission by the Department of Conservation (DoC) and local hapū Ngāti Hikairo ki Tongariro to fly a drone over the fire zone near the start of the Tongariro Alpine Crossing track – a landscape normally known for its volcanic reds and alpine greens.
From above, the burned ridge lines look like a graveyard of sooted tree skeletons, a stark monochrome where growth once rolled out in all directions.
Yet tucked beneath the blackened slopes are pockets of untouched bush that the flames skipped, offering hope and a hint of how the park might recover.
Five weeks after the blaze, a team of ecologists examined the damage and found encouraging signs, DoC principal adviser Jess Scrimgeour told the Herald.
“We were seeing red tussock starting to come back, flax pushing through. A lot of the vegetation along the stream banks had held, so the erosion risk looked minimal.”
The fast-moving fires in November and December wiped out most of the vegetation, exposing bare ground and leaving it vulnerable to invasive species such as broom, gorse and heather.
Scrimgeour said wind and people were the two main ways weeds could be brought into the fire zone. Those risks prompted Ngāti Hikairo ki Tongariro to impose a 10‑year restorative rāhui (restriction) over the area.
“The reason we’re asking people to stay out is to reduce that spread of weeds – and because in a subalpine environment, things grow slowly. Even minimal trampling can have an impact,” she said.
The hapū and DoC were working hand‑in‑hand on the recovery. Their effort received a boost with a $3.5 million commitment over five years, announced by Conservation Minister Tama Potaka in February.
The funding, sourced from the international visitor levy (IVL), would pay for weed control and pest management.
“The IVL ensures visitor revenue goes back into maintaining and improving the places that support local jobs, businesses and communities,” Potaka said.
Alongside the practical reasons for the rāhui, there were also deep cultural ones, Te Rūnanganui o Ngāti Hikairo ki Tongariro spokesman Te Ngaehe Wanikau said.
“One of the key reasons for the rāhui being imposed on the affected area for 10 years is to ensure the restorative process is done appropriately ... and that’s going to require a bit of mahi.”
Fortunately for visitors, the iconic and popular Tongariro Alpine Crossing is not affected by the rāhui. When the Herald visited, hundreds of walkers spilled from shuttle buses and were welcomed by hapū representatives as they set off along the track.
“Our job is to be the haukainga [the people of Ngāti Hikairo] and to be present in the hapū spaces to ensure that when people come, we greet them and offer spiritual guidance,” Wanikau said.
“The important thing for Hikairo is that Tongariro is our kawa [system of values].
“He’s our guardian, our tūpuna [ancestor]. We cherish that kawa – it is a taonga [treasure] to us.
“It is our role as kaitiaki [guardians] to ensure that our kawa, Tongariro, and his korowai are restored.”
Cancer battle: Photojournalist Jason Oxenham’s colleagues unite for fundraiser
In 2020, on the eve of covid lockdowns, Jason Oxenham was diagnosed with multiple myeloma, an incurable blood cancer. Photo / Kristy Oxenham
Standing in line at Shanghai Disneyland, Jason Oxenham feels lumps of cancer on his neck and ribs.
He knows what it means. When myeloma escapes the blood and bone and begins to bloom in soft tissue, time is running out.
A bright family outing - a break from hospital wards, tubes and needles - turns dark.
Oxenham is in China for a last-gasp attempt to halt his cancer through expensive CAR T-cell therapy, but the lumps mean the two regimes he received in a test group have failed.
The oppressive Shanghai summer heat squeezes in tight. With the malignancy running rampant beneath his skin, he is exhausted, defeated.
Oxenham is surrounded by the clatter of rides and the shouts of joy but with each touch to his neck, the reality he fought against for five and a half years begins to crystallise.
Is it time to fly home, enter hospice and wait to die?
He leaves Disneyland. Walks away from his devoted family, mindful of friends supporting him back home, needing to be alone at his hotel.
He’s let everyone down – he’s lost – the cancer has won.
Six weeks on, Oxenham is speaking from his Auckland home, a warm, renovated bungalow.
On the walls hang his own photos, which is unsurprising since he has worked as a photojournalist for 30 years.
Around his neck hangs a large, impressive triangle of pounamu.
“It was a gift from a friend on the day of my first chemotherapy treatment, back in March 2020.
“She blessed it and all her family wore it for a few days each to soak up their energy.
“I have only ever taken it off for scans.”
His diagnosis, back on the eve of Covid lockdowns, was a shock. Jason was lacking energy and his doctor suggested a blood test.
Turned out he was seriously anaemic. On seeing a specialist he was expecting a lecture on eating more spinach and doing more exercise.
Instead he was told he had multiple myeloma – a blood cancer that develops in the bone marrow.
“Wow, cancer. This happens to people, but I didn’t expect it to happen to me.
“And your first thought goes to your children. My youngest, Ruby, she was 12 at the time – that’s too young to lose a parent.”
Oxenham is one of those deep-thinking types. He’ll sit quietly, listening, and when he speaks it’s worth taking note.
When he was diagnosed his thoughtful rationality kicked in. He started Googling, finding out what he could about multiple myeloma.
“Wikipedia told me three and a half years is the average expectancy.
“I quite like stats and I think, well, if the average is 3.5 years, a lot of people aren’t living the three and a half years.
“My analytical mind thinks a lot of people aren’t going to go past one and a half years.
“That is not even a Rugby World Cup cycle, you know.”
Years, half years, age, World Cups. They’re all units of time.
For Oxenham, much of what he says is framed in these units – marriages, births, chemo cycles… death.
And if he was to get more time, to have a future, there was work to do.
Immediately in 2020, he began chemotherapy and, during lockdowns, had a stem cell transplant when his wife was the only visitor allowed.
He was in partial remission, helped by a maintenance chemo drug, and got to work on fitness - beating that 1.5-year mark.
“Then I relapsed. That’s what happens with blood cancer. It’s not a physical cancer you can cut out.”
Oxenham’s explanation is that his cancer grew immune to the initial drug treatment.
It meant finding new options but in NZ the alternative drugs are not funded by Pharmac, making them unsustainably expensive to buy – around half a million dollars for a year’s supply – and they were not guaranteed to succeed.
His options in his home country were running dry.
“In my regular visit with my specialist, he just said, ‘have you thought about CAR T?’.”
Sitting in the dim hotel room after his shock discovery at Disneyland, Oxenham runs a finger along his lumpy rib cage.
The week in Shanghai with his wife, Kristy, and daughters, Ruby and Holly, is supposed to be a final farewell to China before flying home – fixed.
They’d spent a lot of money, other people’s money, and the whole journey to China was beginning to feel like a waste.
Oxenham’s time in the megacity, after his two failed CAR T therapies, has already stretched into six brutal weeks.
His mate Stu, a fellow Kiwi on a similar trial, is all done in three.
Jealousy rises, but he checks himself.
“Be happy for Stu. It worked for him.
“But why hasn’t it worked for me?”
He hates feeling sorry for himself.
“You’re not the only one in the world with challenges, you’re not that special.”
But his future is fading and he’s losing sight of those milestones – graduations, weddings, grandkids… life.
Then his phone lights up with a message on the WeChat app. It’s Professor Jian Hou.
The message reads: “We’ve got another CAR T option for you. Let’s do this again”.
Back in Auckland, Oxenham shakes his head.
Chimeric Antigen Receptor T-cell therapy – “the science – it blows your mind.
“They take T-cells out of your blood and they harvest it, strip it out and they put the blood back in.
“The cells get re-engineered and they put those cells back in you. It’s an amazing process.”
Unfortunately, the treatment is not available in NZ.
It is possible to get CAR T therapy in the United States or Australia but it’ll cost a cool million or so for a Kiwi.
“But there were other countries that were doing it cheaper – China, Israel, India,” remarks Oxenham.
The cost was still high, likely around the $500k mark.
“You know, we’ve still got to live, got three kids still at home.
“I don’t want to be selfish and just absorb my whole family’s content assets. It’s tricky.”
It’s classic Oxenham, weighing up the family assets, calculating whether his life is worth the cost.
But in this house, surrounded by his photos and the people who love him, it’s a no-brainer - “we’re doing this CAR T thing”.
His wife Kristy led the search for treatment options, and through others living with myeloma they discovered Professor Jian Hou in Shanghai.
“And I started communicating with him, emailing, and we learned through research that he’s a pioneer, he’s a real leader in the research of CAR T.”
Oxenham’s relapse was progressing, so time was critical. He pulled together money from his redundancy payout and KiwiSaver. There was help from family and friends, and a quickly established Givealittle page.
And with Kristy, he flew to China.
“We were kind of in the dark. We didn’t know what to expect.”
Freshly shaved, Oxenham is lying back, tubes in his arm, going through his third infusion, giving it one more crack.
From here, it’s a waiting game under the stark artificial light and mechanical beeps and hums.
He needs to get sicker because if the therapy works, the re-engineered cells will hunt down and attack the cancer as if it were a virus, unleashing a fierce fever.
The sweats start and Oxenham heaves through eight days of rising and falling body temperature.
It’s working. He feels like crap, but happy because unlike before, the CAR T is doing its job.
He runs his hands across his middle and neck. It’s smoother - the lumps of cancer are diminishing.
Professor Hou and his team deliver the critical data — his ‘numbers’ are dropping, and time, Oxenham’s most precious commodity, is no longer running into a dead-end.
“Suddenly the future opens up.
“You know, it’s like wow, I might get to see my kids graduate from university and start their own lives.”
Stacked against a wall in Oxenham’s home is a huge line-up of framed photos. And on a table is a stack of more empty frames waiting for their image to be placed inside.
It looks like a lot of work.
It’s all part of a fundraising project for the treatment in China that he initiated before making the trip – a photography exhibition called Light+Shade.
“As a photojournalist for 30 years it suddenly dawned on me, it’d be great to pull on a few favours from all my friends over the years.
“People I have worked alongside, colleagues, a lot of really good friends, talented people and inspirational people.
“And I thought if I could just ask them for three or four frames each and I’ll present an art exhibition.”
So it was no surprise that more than 30 photographers he asked answered the call.
“You work alongside people and just try to be a good friend, colleague, whatever but it seems that stuff pays off.
“And it is interesting how different photographers have approached the brief and that’s what makes the exhibition so interesting because you’ve got such different styles.
“You’ve got photographers who specialise in underwater photography or drone photography or fashion, sport and photojournalism.
“I’m grateful that NZME, Stuff, Getty and Photosport have all come on board and said ‘yeah, you can flog off our stuff,’ because a lot of the photos are not the photographers’ property.”
The exhibition also features the work of Herald cartoonist Rod Emmerson.
Ten Richard O’Brien illustrations, signed by the famous actor and The Rocky Horror Show creator, as his most famous character Riff Raff, are up for sale and already selling fast.
Beyond the imagery, the framers, printers, exhibition space and refreshments for the opening have been donated.
“The response has been really humbling.”
There’s hope the exhibition and ongoing online sales of the photos will make a dent in the $250,000 he and Kristy need to make up for their China experience.
Oxenham had to be convinced to stage a fundraising effort like Light+Shade.
“I felt uncomfortable with the Givealittle approach. I had to be talked around.
“I much prefer the idea of people getting something for their contribution.”
“It’s crazy. CAR T-cell therapy is standard treatment in the US. And yet we have to beg, borrow, steal and fundraise every cent we can to pay for these treatments
“I mean, it’s a shame that during a phase that I should be actually trying to recover from treatment, I’m spending every waking hour fundraising – I am enjoying it – but you know, it’s draining.”
Oxenham drops in to his old workplace, the editorial room of the NZ Herald, to drop off invites to the opening of Light+Shade, one week away.
His colour is better. Less of that ill-waxy pallor that was an obvious result of the battle his body has endured for five and a half years.
On his return from China, his “numbers” were low meaning the cancer was in remission. So much that his specialist didn’t want to see him for three months, when for the past few years it has been monthly visits.
Normal blood indicators such as his platelet and neutrophil levels are scarily low, however.
“Like platelets for example, should be between 150 and 400. Mine are 25.
“But what it means is the CAR T is still working - it’s still fighting the cancer. I’m sitting here and these cells are in my body, and this sounds a bit weird, but they’re still going to war.
“It’s amazing.
“I’m not cured, but it’s manageable. I will relapse at some point, and God willing, I have a lot of years out of it. The best-case scenario is I might get 10 years out of this.
“And the other thing that we’re sort of hopeful of is that when I was diagnosed five years ago, CAR T wasn’t on the horizon.
“So in another five years, with the breakthroughs that are coming, you know what, it could be curable.
“There are doctors overseas that are saying that myeloma is curable and others saying ‘no, it’s not’, but you know they wouldn’t have even been having that discussion five years ago.
“It could be just another breakthrough, and then another breakthrough, and suddenly, I mean, who knows?”
Five years, 10 years – Oxenham is once again talking in units of time.
He reminisces about those cancer lumps, brushing his hand along his ribs.
When he felt them in line at Disneyland, time was up – “but they’ve literally dissolved away”.
The future is back.
Critical minerals in New Zealand: Where they are and what might be mined
A new map reveals a treasure trove of buried minerals dotted around New Zealand – some on pristine islands or in our beloved national parks. And while the critical elements can be used to produce products from military weapons to electric vehicle batteries, extracting them for commercial use may not be straight forward. Mike Scott reports.
In special spots on the West Coast of the South Island, there is sand that might look ordinary, but it isn’t.
Pick up a scoop and let it fall and zirconium, titanium and rare earth elements will run through your fingers.
Each is classed as a critical mineral – part of the group that forms the building blocks of electric vehicles, wind turbines, satellites, data centres and modern weapon systems.
You might assume these minerals are uncommon, yet they’re not. Like the sprinkling sand dropping from your hand, they can be found far and wide across New Zealand.
For decades, they were neither in demand nor widely valued, but that view has shifted as modern technologies have become increasingly dependent on them.
They’ve now become a hot topic. Critical-mineral mining is heavily concentrated in China and with rising geopolitical tensions, governments are reassessing how secure their supply chains really are.
As demand grows and new technologies emerge, prices have become increasingly volatile.
Countries, including New Zealand, which has known deposits in coastal sands, volcanic zones and rock formations, are revisiting mining laws.
So, what are New Zealand’s “critical minerals”? Which of them lie within New Zealand’s earth and where? Which can feasibly be extracted, where do they go and when might a mine appear in your neighbourhood?
What are the critical minerals?
Dr Isabelle Chambefort, general manager – energy at Earth Sciences New Zealand (formerly GNS Science), makes it clear minerals have always been critical.
“Humanity has been developed around mining.
“It has been the keystone of civilisation. It gave economic stability and gave us an increase in our technology.”
Since ochre and flint played their early part in human development, minerals with names like vanadium, germanium and zirconium have taken up the “critical” mantle.
“With the transition away from fossil fuels to more renewable energy, it is highly demanding on new materials, new minerals and new elements.”
In 2024, GNS was commissioned by the Ministry of Business, Innovation and Employment (MBIE) to produce a minerals prospectivity report, which fed into wider economic analyses carried out by global consultancy Wood Mackenzie. Drawing on that assessment and further input by industry stakeholders, MBIE classified 37 minerals as “critical” to New Zealand.
The ministry describes the purpose of the list as “an important first step to ensure a secure supply of the minerals we need for our economic growth and resilience ... identifying minerals that are economically important, vulnerable to supply risk, or essential to unlocking other critical minerals”.
Other countries have similar lists. The United States’ one is long, with 60 minerals listed. Australia’s list has 31 and the European Union’s 34.
But what is critical to one nation isn’t to another and New Zealand’s list has its own distinctive flavour.
Alongside the expected high-tech minerals, we include aggregate and sand – essential for roading and core infrastructure – metallurgical coal, used for steel production, and gold.
The United States and Australia leave aggregate, sand, coal and gold off their critical minerals lists. The European Union includes coal.
Massey University’s Professor Glenn Banks has spent decades studying and advising the Pacific’s mining sector, specialising in the socio-economic and cultural realities of large-scale extraction.
He has described New Zealand’s critical minerals list as poorly defined, saying some included minerals are critical to the mining industry – gold and coal – rather than essential to the economic wellbeing of the nation.
“There’s the stuff that has been identified as critical in terms of the green transition, your lithiums, your vanadiums and that kind of stuff.
“But if we shut down the gold sector here in New Zealand, it’s not going to be the end of the world for New Zealand in terms of mineral resources.
“It might cost us a little bit more to import wedding rings or jewellery and that kind of stuff, but that’s kind of the extent of it.”
Once you have the list, there is another critical step and that is to divide the 37 minerals into three groups: the ones we already mine, the ones we realistically could and the ones we’ll always have to import.
Where are the critical minerals in New Zealand?
Along with the list, GNS has also published an interactive map showing where these minerals have been detected across Aotearoa and at first glance, it looks like someone spilt a packet of M&Ms across the country.
You’ll see manganese in the Bay of Islands, copper on Aotea Great Barrier Island, nickel in Fiordland. Dots all over the place.
But look a little closer and it’s not a glittering treasure map of future mines. Most of these spots are tiny occurrences or one‑off identifications that have never been assessed for economic viability. Others are historical, likely a valuable strike a century ago but not necessarily today.
Take the scattering of manganese dots on Waiheke Island. A quick look at the history books shows they’re leftovers from a short‑lived manganese rush in the late 1800s. Check the New Zealand Petroleum & Minerals permit map and there are no exploratory or mining applications on the island.
It is the same story for Aotea Great Barrier Island and in the forested mountains of Fiordland – yes, there are traces of critical minerals there, but no one is coming to get them.
What the GNS map reveals is how markers are concentrated in the Coromandel, the West Coast of the South Island, and Otago.
When you add the west coast of the North Island from Taranaki up toward South Auckland, parts of Tasman and the central volcanic zone, this is where extraction might be possible.
Going by prospecting, exploration and mining applications or permits, it is where companies are looking.
They are the regions with minerals like titanium, vanadium, lithium, silica, antimony and rare earth elements. It is where geology, data and desire might just line up.
What critical minerals do we already produce?
Let’s set aggregate, coal and gold aside. We know we have plenty of quarries and coal and gold mining are well developed.
Mineral sand deposits on the South Island’s West Coast are a proven source, containing titanium, zirconium and rare earth elements alongside other non‑critical minerals.
Westland Mineral Sands (WMS) has an extraction operation north of Westport and isin the process of opening a second site near Hokitika.
The company filters out the heavier elements, producing a heavy mineral concentrate. This is transported to global markets, where further processing extracts the minerals.
WMS has applied for funding through the ring‑fenced $80m from the Government’s Regional Infrastructure Fund to build its own processing plant near its Westport mine.
WMS chief development officer Tim Chase says the project would allow the company to refine the mineral sands locally, rather than exporting the concentrate in its current form.
“By introducing value‑add processing, we can increase the value of our product by four to five times, create skilled regional jobs and build resilience and sustainability into the business in commodity markets that do change.”
Vanadium is prized for its ability to strengthen steel, resist corrosion and for its potential role in long‑duration energy storage.
In New Zealand, a vanadium-rich slag is produced during steel manufacturing at the Glenbrook Steel Mill.
BHP New Zealand Steel currently sends 12,000 tonnes each year to China, representing 10% of the world’s vanadium production. The slag is processed to be an additive in steel.
Aluminium is on the critical list and is produced in quantity – more than 300,000 tonnes each year – at the Tiwai Point smelter near Bluff, using imported alumina refined from bauxite ore mined in Australia.
Are we about to see more critical minerals mines in New Zealand?
While GNS has produced the map identifying where the minerals exist, it is now the work of private companies to assess whether digging them out is worth it – and that is a lot of work.
“It’s not tomorrow, you’re going to go and dig a hole,” Chambefort says.
“You need to assess the resource, the volume of this element that is in the crust; how many millions of tonnes and how many dollars’ worth will you be able to extract.
“You need to have the environmental assessment, the cost of the production, the cost of mining.
“It’s not because you have an anomaly [concentration of the mineral] that you will have a mine.”
She says the path from exploration permitting to an actual mine can take up to 20 years.
New Zealand’s fast-track system for accelerating approvals on large developments can help, but it is still not a guarantee, as recent decisions show.
In December, OceanaGold’s Waihī North extension won approval for its gold-mine extension near Waihī. This year, Trans-Tasman Resources’ application to mine iron-rich sands from the seabed in the South Taranaki Bight was declined.
Banks says you still need to show a proven resource, know how to extract it, have a bankable feasibility plan and have investors on board.
“If you’ve got all that sorted, and then you enter the fast-track process to get the regulatory consent you need.
“But it’s often the other way around. Investors are wary of the mining sector, because it’s a boom-and-bust [industry], and there’s a lot of cowboys out there.
“So, investors tend to wait until you’ve got the regulatory approvals, and you’re all good to go, then they’ll say, ‘Yep, we’ll come on board’. It’s always a balancing act for the sector.”
One company looking to mine a critical mineral that has so far been little tapped in New Zealand is Canadian-headquartered company Rua Gold.
Antimony is present in the quartz-vein deposits in the Reefton Goldfields. Early miners often treated antimony as a waste product, but today it carries real value, used in flame-retardant materials, batteries and energy storage, and as a metal hardener.
It is also highly prized in defence, classified by the US Department of Defence as “war-critical”, thanks to its role in armour-piercing ammunition, explosives, flame-retardant military gear and advanced sensors and electronics.
Rua Gold chief executive Robert Eckford told the Herald that since the company began assessing antimony reserves, the price had risen from US$4000 ($6750) per tonne to US$40,000, making it economically viable.
There is also an obvious advantage for Rua Gold in that the company would be pulling the antimony out of the ground at the same time as gold, its primary product, using already established infrastructure.
Eckford says Rua Gold is currently completing exploratory drilling at Auld Creek, and at the end of March will apply for it to be a fast-track eligible project.
“We know it’s in the ground, so step one is doing enough drilling where you have confidence that you’ve got a certain number of tonnes in the ground ... that resource right now looks at around 12,000 tonnes of antimony, which is around half a billion dollars of antimony in Reefton.”
After completing the permitting processes, the company is planning to start producing antimony by mid‑2028 – “which in mining terms is very quick, which is the attractiveness of New Zealand”.
Where do New Zealand’s critical minerals end up, and does it matter?
The need for New Zealand’s critical minerals list has been presented as part of a broader push to support clean technology, electronics, aviation and medical equipment. It is also framed as a way for New Zealand to help secure mineral supply chains and strengthen relationships with international partners.
It is well documented that global supply for many critical minerals is dominated by China, and establishing alternative sources has become a high priority for the United States and other Western countries.
Eckford is conscious of the precarious situation the West finds itself in and sees Rua Gold producing antimony for Western supply lines as part of that narrative.
From a global stability viewpoint, he says, a war could be won simply by controlling the supply chain, which is why agreements and declarations with the United States were necessary.
“I’m not saying that there’s a war about to break out, but war is taking a bit of a different image in this world, where it is now the supply chain war right here,” Eckford says.
“It’s about economic dominance and New Zealand is aligning with that Western side.
“We’re part of that story, fortunately.”
Banks points to a paper in ScienceDirect examining how defence and military use of critical minerals is driving global demand – not the transition to green energy or digital technologies.
The paper highlights that defence industries – which produce weapons, munitions, jets and so forth – use substantial proportions of several high‑value minerals: 18% of antimony, 33% of chromium, 11% of cobalt, and 5-10% of copper. All of these minerals sit in the Ministry of Business, Innovation and Employment’s “potential to be produced in New Zealand” category.
“This is the sort of stuff that we’re just not talking about,” Banks notes.
“The neon flashing light ‘critical minerals’ goes off, let’s get into this big time, without necessarily thinking of it more critically about: why are we getting involved in this?
“And what’s in it for us? But also, where are these things ending up?”
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.
