White Island’s eruption is a reminder that we are not nature’s master, but at its whim
At 2.11pm yesterday, as the Whakaari eruption was happening, I was out mowing my lawns. From my home at Te Kaha, a tiny settlement on the North Island’s east coast, you can make out the volcano’s sunken crater. The 300-metre dust cliffs frame the northern and southern edges, and in the centre is an east-facing pit where ancient birders and old sulphur miners once did their work.
On Monday the only workers and visitors on island were tour operators and tourists, several whom never made it back from yesterday’s destruction.
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