spinofflive
‘We think that the risk is too high’: Tim Healey, chairman of the Guardians of the Sounds (Photo: Iain McGregor/Stuff)
‘We think that the risk is too high’: Tim Healey, chairman of the Guardians of the Sounds (Photo: Iain McGregor/Stuff)

SocietyApril 7, 2023

Inside the battle over the Interislander’s new ‘mega ferries’

‘We think that the risk is too high’: Tim Healey, chairman of the Guardians of the Sounds (Photo: Iain McGregor/Stuff)
‘We think that the risk is too high’: Tim Healey, chairman of the Guardians of the Sounds (Photo: Iain McGregor/Stuff)

The arrival of two new ‘mega ferries’ will have interisland travellers breathing a sigh of relief. But locals warn: ‘If something goes wrong here, it’s going to be carnage.’

This story was first published on Stuff. All photography by Iain McGregor.

For shoreside residents in the main channel between the Cook Strait and Picton Harbour, the wait for the Interislander’s new ‘mega ferries’ is stirring unpleasant memories of the ‘ferry wars’ of the 1990s.

They dread a repeat of the 20-year-old battle. But now, that is also coupled with new grave fears, about the risks of larger ships using the notoriously turbulent Tory Channel entrance.

“If something goes wrong here, it’s going to be carnage,” says Tim Healey, chair of the community watchdog Guardians of the Sounds. “The channel entrance is very narrow. It’s less than 400 metres wide. If you make a mistake here, there is going to be loss of life.”

The Tory Channel entrance is notoriously narrow. (Photo: Iain McGregor/Stuff)

At issue is the size of the new vessels, due in 2025 and 2026. At 50,000 tonnes, they can carry twice as many passengers as the current three ship fleet, 300 per cent more rail wagons and almost double the number of trucks and other vehicles.

They are nearly 40 metres longer and at least five metres wider than the current ships in the cross-Strait fleet.

Healey points to a number of accidents and near-misses in the channel, where vessels are required to make an almost 90-degree turn.

Between 2013 and 2021, there were 42 navigation safety incidents in the area.

Cruise ships were banned from entering the drowned valley through the narrow passage after the cruise liner Azamara Quest crashed into Wheki Rock, close to the entrance, in January 2016 – despite having a Port Marlborough pilot on board.

In September 2004, Interislander’s Aratere ferry nearly ran aground, with 292 people on board, in the Tory Channel due to poor bridge management and navigational practices.

The Monte Stello – on lease to Interislander from Bluebridge while the Aratere was being lengthened – stranded briefly there in 2011.

And a few months later, one of Aratere’s engines failed in the passage, with the second losing power 500m into the strait, leaving 142 passengers in darkness for 30 minutes.

More recently, the ageing fleet has been plagued with a series of breakdowns.

In February, the Aratere lost power and was reportedly adrift for a time near the Tory Channel entrance. (Photo: Iain McGregor/Stuff)

An incident in January, when the stricken Kaitaki drifted more than a nautical mile towards the rugged Wellington south coast in winds gusting over 100kph, raised questions about rescue capability in the waters between the North and South Islands.

“We think that the risk is too high with these larger ships,” Healey said. “It’s a very exposed coastline and there’s nowhere to run.”

Strong, fast tidal flows through the channel, which lies between Arapawa Island and the mainland, make the waters particularly dangerous.

“Depending on time of year, the cold will get you [if you were knocked off the boat] first because it’s a very cold piece of ocean,” Healey says. “If you get taken into the rocks, you’ll get smashed.

“You can’t swim against it. If you’re in the water, you’re in trouble. Really, you’ve got to hope someone can get you out.”

But in the first instance, rescue would likely come from local boaties, he says. “[There are] great big, tall, vertical waves that are really dangerous to get through, particularly in a small boat. So, if there is trouble out there, in certain conditions, there is no rescue because the little boats won’t be able to get out.

“[And] there’s no way of salvaging these boats using a big tug because there aren’t any nearby that can do it.”

A fuel spill would also be “catastrophic” to the local environment, he says.

Residents are worried about the impact of the new ferries on their waterside properties. (Photo: Iain McGregor/Stuff)

Healey says the ferry company should consider using the wider, northern entrance into Queen Charlotte Sound, although this would add an extra hour onto crossing times.

KiwiRail, which operates Interislander, says the diesel electric hybrid ferries are designed specifically for the crossing.

The state-owned enterprise also asked a maritime consultancy firm to conduct a review. It concluded the introduction of the larger ferries posed no greater risk than that posed by smaller vessels, Ships Programme Director Massimo Soprano said.

The review, commissioned in 2019, was not made public and KiwiRail did not make it available to Stuff.

The company says it also held video-link workshops with a marine simulation centre in Brisbane in late 2021, which modelled capability and performance of the new ships in normal and adverse wind and current conditions. That included a partial or total loss of power in the channel.

“The results of the simulation also concluded that the new larger ships did not introduce any new risks to the transit of the Tory Channel,” Soprano said.

The new ferries ships would be fitted with “evacuation slides” and were designed to be capable of rescuing people from the water if another vessel ran into trouble in the area, he said. “This feature goes above and beyond standard evacuation systems and enhances overall rescue capability.’’

Strict rules control the speed of large ships through Tory Channel and the Queen Charlotte Sound to prevent wash damaging the fragile coastal ecosystem. (Photo: Iain McGregor/Stuff)

KiwiRail’s plan to replace its fleet of three ferries triggered a review of the maritime risk by Port Marlborough and Maritime NZ.

A report, published in 2021, identified 67 risks, including the need for better aids to navigation, limited tug availability, collision, and grounding events “which could result in catastrophic outcomes including loss of life, oil spill and the foundering and salvage of a large vessel’’.

“A related risk is also the level of regional capability able to respond adequately to such an event.”

As a result, the council implemented better tide and current, and real time wake monitoring and modelling in the channel.

Harbour master Jake Oliver has built a ship simulator for the new ferries and is working with the ferry companies on a “common passage plan” for commercial shipping.

For the first six months of operation, the new ferries will be required to use the northern entrance, the council said.

While safety is their main concern, the Guardians have other concerns about the government’s “resilience connection” project, which also includes two new terminals, at Kaiwharawhara in Wellington and at Picton.

The watchdog was formed in 2000 after new, high-speed crafts damaged beaches and waterfront properties and put bathers and boaties at risk.

After a long-running legal fight, speed restrictions were introduced aimed at limiting coastal damage from its wash.

Interislander’s new, custom-designed, rail-enabled ferries will arrive in 2025 and 2026. (Photo: Kiwirail/Supplied)

The group also worries the “monster ferries” will dominate the tiny Picton Harbour as they berth and depart. And it is concerned about larger number of passengers and vehicles being discharged into the roads around the tiny seaside township.

The project was approved under the fast-track consenting process, introduced to limit the economic impact of the Covid-19 pandemic. That has meant limited local input, the Guardians say.

KiwiRail says it has consulted the local community extensively, including with the Guardians.

It maintains the ships are designed to generate less wake energy (that is fewer waves) than the current fleet, even though they are larger.

This was a “key design consideration” to reduce their impact on the shoreline and adhere to local council rules on wave energy, Soprano says.

In order to operate, KiwiRail must obtain a resource consent from Marlborough District Council. As part of the construction, the company first asked the council to approve its methodology for verifying compliance with wave energy regulations on the route.

Local boaties worry that access to the harbour will be limited while the new, larger ferries arrive and depart. (Photo: Iain McGregor/Stuff)

Tests were then carried out on a scale model of the hull in shipyard tanks specifically designed to reproduce Cook Strait conditions, Soprano said.

”Vessels certainly have become more efficient over time, as hull designs have been improved and streamlined,” says Otago University’s Wayne Stephenson, an expert in coastal geomorphology. “Usually it’s because they’re chasing fuel efficiency rather than worrying about foreshore erosion.”

He said other factors will have an impact on the shore – including the operating speed and the frequency of crossings.

“If you reduce wave height, that’s a good thing. But it also depends on the sailing line from the shore, depth of water, how much the wave has to shoal before they break on the beach, the nature of the beach and the sediments. There are lots of variables that come into play.”

Healey fears a repeat of the 20-year-old “Stop the Wash” battle, which ended up in the Environment Court before the council implemented speed restrictions.

“We don’t know what the wash is going to be like, and no one can really tell us. They tell us these boats will have a smaller wave than the conventional ferries, but a 19,000 ton boat against 55,000 tons? We are dubious.”

The channel’s inter-tidal zone has experience three major changes in the nearly 60-year history of the Cook Strait ferries, he said.

“We’ve had sand stripped off beaches. It gets dumped over the kelp beds where all our pāua and cray live.

“The Tory Channel is very important to all us people here. It’s a food basket, to Māori in particular it has great, spiritual significance. And we just think it’s too precious to be put at risk.”

Keep going!
mid-century easter greeting card with daffodils and the words "thinking of you on easter"
Image: Getty

OPINIONSocietyApril 7, 2023

The changing spirit of Easter in Aotearoa

mid-century easter greeting card with daffodils and the words "thinking of you on easter"
Image: Getty

As a child, David Hill remembers Easter as a solemn four days where nothing was open and playing outside could earn stern looks from the neighbours. How things have changed (for the better).

Napier in the mid-1950s. The day before Good Friday. “We’re all Christians here,” our school principal tells the special Easter assembly. “Or if we’re not, we keep our opinions to ourselves.”

So we sing hymns, including that one about “A green hill far away / Wihout a city wall / Where  our dear Lord was crucified / who died to save us all”. There’s a sermon. (Yes, this is a state school.) We recite The Lord’s Prayer. Wally Repia, who stammers, is rebuked for not joining in.

Then the country shuts down for four days. Pretty well every shop and business closes. In the mid-1950s, weekends are like that, anyway, but four days in a country where a home like ours didn’t have a fridge till 1955 and a car till 1957 still means a logistical headache.

Easter sport? Frowned upon. Mowing the lawns? Not on Good Friday or Easter Sunday, unless you want disapproving looks over the fence. Even hanging out the washing can bring tutting and head-shaking. It’s four days of national mourning – after all, there’s been a death in the Christian family.

black and white 1950s photo of woman hanging out the washing
This 1950s stock photograph probably wasn’t taken at Easter (Photo: Getty Images)

We kids normally jump at any holiday, but we don’t jump very high during these four days, especially not in the street or playground, where passing voices may demand “Don’t you know it’s Easter?” My pagan parents sometimes let me go to my mate Bruce, even on Good Friday, but if our commando games rise above a murmur, Bruce’s Mum appears, hissing “Not till 3 o’clock, remember!” The hour of Christ’s supposed deposition from the cross, in case you didn’t know.

Seventy years later? Well, we’re certainly not all Christians, and those who aren’t don’t necessarily keep their opinions to themselves.

We’re less religious overall. In the 2001 census, 29.6% of NZers identified as “No Religion”. By the last, 2018 census, that proportion had rocketed to 48.2%. Another 6.7% were “Undeclared”, so agnostics / atheists now outnumber all faith adherents combined. Subtract 20,409 who stated their religion as “Jedi”, plus the 4,248 who claimed to worship The Flying Spaghetti Monster, and the out-numbering is emphatic. This year’s results? En route to a media outlet near you.

Are we less spiritual? I don’t believe so. If you define spirituality as a belief that there’s more to existence than sensory experience, plus a willingness to explore universal emotions such as love, altruism, compassion, then I suggest the numbers are rising – though it’s hard to find statistics which measure anything so intimate and personal.

Aotearoa New Zealand in the 2020s seems to encourage an awareness of spirituality in a number of ways. One is that we’re living longer, and our lives – in most cases – are less preoccupied with a daily struggle for survival. We have the time (and with advancing age, the inclination) to explore life beyond its material aspects. Our longer existence pushes us towards seeking a purpose other than passing on our DNA. I’m struck by how willing my octogenarian mates are to discuss the emotional and the transcendental.

Other factors? At the opposite end of the age spectrum, our steadily widening school syllabuses encourage awareness of emotional and spiritual issues via subjects such as history, social sciences, English, Art, Te Reo. We’re also more multi-cultural, so most of us can’t help registering the values and beliefs of the Bhatianis at number 17, and the Tuigamalas down the right-of-way. And of course, we can’t deny – even if some would still like to – an increasing awareness of Māori spirituality. Concepts such as Wairua, the spiritual dimension of all existence, the uniqueness and holistic well-being of individuals and their emotional connection to whānau, hapū, etc, have influenced non-Māori as well.

Paradoxically, the century’s swelling scientific knowledge may also be nudging us toward a spiritual awareness. The so-far inexplicable mysteries of particle physics such as action at a distance, where sub-atomic particles seem to defy all scientific laws by reacting faster than light speed, or the awe evoked by the James Webb Telescope’s images of earliest galaxies and stars, bring wonder as well as information. In a similar way, increasing concern with climate change seems to involve an emotional connection with planet and people as well as a practical one.

Spirituality can stray into silliness: Scientology; aura cleansing; “spiritual oil” you can buy online to ward off police (sic); the Auckland dog owner on TV, consulting a clairvoyant to find which pup would be a reincarnation of her late pet. Yet there’s an emotional yearning behind such clunky manifestations, just as there’s an aesthetic yearning behind garden gnomes.

I acknowledge the motifs of intercession and hope behind the Christian Easter. I can disregard the bunnies and chocolate. I still find the dwelling on flagellation, blood and decay unattractive and icky.

So what do we – as in our family – do on this weekend? How do we try to make the four days more than lie-ins and sugar poisoning?

We’ve established a sort of tradition. We used to invite daughter plus son-in-law for a Good Friday breakfast. Now we invite daughter plus son-in-law plus two grandsons who these days have to bend down to embrace their grandparents. We eat the hot cross buns which my wife Beth has bought from multiple sources. She labels them A to E; we vote on which is most satisfying, then scoff at one another’s choices. If possible, we Zoom with son and partner in Europe, and brandish half-eaten buns at them.

illustration of grandparents talking to daughter and grandchild over zoom
Not pictured: hot cross buns (Image: Getty)

We don’t say out loud how this time of sharing, affection, family commitment matters so much. The grandsons would make vomiting noises if we tried. But we imply it all. We recall Easters past: where we were, what we did. The grandsons – again – are particularly good at this, gazing back across aeons of time, as you do when you’re 20 and 22 years old. We talk travel plans, work hopes, friends’ fortunes. We tell tales about one another; then deny them furiously. We’re noisy as hell. Seven decades back, neighbours would have panted disapproval.

We end with a Happy Easter toast. Then on Sunday evening, we go to their place, and do it all over again.

It sounds cosy, even cloying? But Beth and I send the two younger generations away, feeling even fonder of them than when they arrived. We agree that we have to keep doing this, until the time they need to cut up our hot cross buns for us.

Yes, Easter weekends have got better: less authoritarian and repressive; more relevant to our less monolithic culture. Relevant also in a century when more of us acknowledge and accept spirituality in its most unassuming and communal forms. That’s good. That’s the spirit.