This story starts at the beginning of the 2nd World War in 1942 when a Japanese spy plane flew over Wellington on the 8th March.

          It is a story about my relations with the wild Waimarino.

          On the top of the Tinakori Hill in Wellington were large radio masts handling the traffic for both the British and the American Navy Pacific fleets – close to where I live today.  It was believed that when the Japanese invaded the radio station would be their first target.

          Soon after this navel radio station was moved to a new site, a few miles south of the large military base at Waiouru.

          I was working in Auckland and had an office on the old ship Philomel. One morning I had a call telling me I was transferred immediately to the Navel station South of Waioru.

          Imagine the panic. I had a date that night. I had clothes in the laundry. I had to get signed out from the various departments before I could depart.

          I made the train that evening. I just caught it just as it started to move.  Some mates heaved my kit bag and my hammock in after I boarded. I had no seat reserved, I just had to get a seat when one became available.

          Imagine getting off the train, in the middle of the night and waiting, at a very cold station, for a truck to come and pick me up for an unknown destination.

          It turned out I was to replace a Chief Petty Officer who had been caught ‘tickling kitty’ – stealing.   

          The station had a crew of over 100. During its peak operations it had a crew of 150.  

          At first it was called HMNZS Cook but later the name was changed to Irirangi – radio base.

          The camp contained a receiving station and two transmitting stations covering an area of twenty acres. It also intercepted Japanese radio messages.

          I enjoyed the three months I spent at Irirangi. My job was to make out the menus and order the food for the crew, issuing the daily rum rations and maintaining the clothing and equipment stores. We even had our own rugby team in the Taihape competition.

          Our home port was Taihape. Can you imagine hearing over the loud speakers the call, ‘Liberty men will fall in for inspection at 09 hundred hours.  The liberty boat will depart at 09 hundred hours for Taihape.’ – our liberty boat had four wheels.

          That was my first job in the Waimarino but not my last.

          After graduating at university my first posting in the Department of Agriculture as a Farm Advisor was to Whanganui. Being the new boy I was allocated the Waimarino district, Raetihi, Ohakune, Waiouru and they added the Taihape district. They were all a long way from Whanganui.

          There were some big runs out the back of Taihape. Often I could make only one call in a day.

          Farmers always wanted me to inspect their whole farm, including the back paddock. The mode of transport was a farm hack. Often it was the kid’s big fat pony, or a half broken in horse. One was too slow and the other too exciting. Farmers were keen to see how I could handle a horse.

          Before we departed I could tell them the back paddock was short of fertilizer and the paddocks next to the sheds contained excessive.

          In those days they were still cutting bush and sowing new pastures. They would cut the trees,  let them lie until the weeds grew up. They would do a slow back burn before they piled up what was left after the burn into rows for a second burn.

          Chinese market gardeners played a major role at this stage. They would lease land for vegetable growing and grow crops like carrots and parsnips. They were heavy users of blood and bone fertilizer and they did a good job for the farmers that leased their land.

          I often would bring home a sack of carrots. I could buy these at the local petrol stations.

          One day a farmer stopped me and asked me to get my truck off the road as he had mustered a mob of wild horses and he was bringing them through to his farm to help control weeds after a burn.

          Just prior to Christmas I visited a farm at Tangiwai a few days later I took my family for a holiday in Timaru. I was shocked to hear of the terrible Tangiwai disaster. A train load of people heading home for Christmas crashed into the Whangaehu river as the bridge broke due to a volcanic lahar from the Mt Ruapehu crater lake. The locomotive and 6 carriages were derailed.

          Most of the passengers would have been dosing or sound asleep – can you imagine the terror?

          151 people died on 24 December in 1953. 20 bodies were never recovered, presumably they were washed out to sea.

          When I worked the district it was a dry area. The only hotels were in Taihape. I usually stayed at the Regent boarding house, close to the railway station in Ohakune. It was cold and not very comfortable.

          At one stage the main land route from Wellington to Auckland was up the Whanganui river by a ferry boat up to Pipariki, then you took a coach to Waiouru. The next day you coached to the Lake and caught another ferry to Taupo.

          We take things for granted these days. Imagine the hardships the army had to put up with constructing the Desert Road especially during the cold winter months.

          When ever I drive past HMNZS Irirangi and see empty paddocks, all the buildings have gone – it brings back happy memories. Does it still operate? Yes, but it has no crew,  they all live in Auckland.

Geoffrey Moss(mossassociates.co.nz)

“Take care of your memories – you cannot relive them.”