The Buried Eighth Wonder of the World: A Cautionary Tale on Profiting off our Whenua.
TE AO MĀORI | ISSUE THIRTEEN | SPOOKY
Written by Skye Lunson-Storey (they/them) | Whakatōhea, Ngāti Maniapoto, Ngāti Tūwharetoa | @uku_rangi | Arts, Culture, and Te Ao Māori Editor
This eerie tale starts back in 1886 on Lake Rotomahana, with rising waters and the unsettling sighting of a phantom waka taua. These sightings were only about 11 days before the devastating disaster on 10 June 1886, from the infamous Mt Tarawera eruption that engulfed the Pink and White Terraces, burying them permanently. These terraces were just the start of the booming tourism industry in Aotearoa, but remain a cautionary tale or superstitious lesson of what happens when we ignore the warning signs from the whenua itself in pursuit of tourism, progress, or profit.
I’ll set the scene for you: it’s the early hours of the morning on 10 June 1886, and you are jarred awake by the beginning of a destructive six-hour eruption. You look outside and witness 10 km high ash. Beneath your feet, violent earthquakes form a 17 km fracture, splitting Mt Tarawera as far as Waimangu. This eruption displayed the full power of Rūaumoko, permanently transforming the landscape, destroying villages, and taking the lives of up to 150 people. Almost all were Māori. You can actually visit one of these settlements, Te Wairoa, which is known as ‘The Buried Village’.
Back in the day, these terraces were hailed by some as the ‘Eighth Wonder of the World’. It became an international hub for tourism where visitors could quite literally immerse themselves in their beauty and experience elements of Māori culture. As more Europeans became intrigued, wanting to see this ‘Eighth Wonder’, it reflected a unique tension between the commercial value placed on Papatūānuku and the role Māori maintain as kaitiaki to the whenua.
One of the most recognised figures from this pūrākau is Guide Sophia Hinerangi, also known as Te Paea. She was a renowned guide who welcomed the visitors, taking them to the Pink and White Terraces, and in the wake of the eruption sheltered 62 people in her whare, keeping them safe. Guide Sophia observed the lake's unusual raised water levels beforehand and noticed a phantom war canoe in the light of day, and the European tourists who were with her also bore witness to this ghostly omen. Guide Sophia understood that these were the warning signs of impending doom, but these signs were not taken as seriously by others.
The wharenui Hinemihi o te Ao Tawhito, despite being half buried in mud, protected those who took refuge in her shelter. Something slightly uncanny to note about Hinemihi is that rather than paua shells used for the eyes of the carvings, it was gold sovereigns, symbolising just how much money they were making by profiting off the whenua. This was a natural disaster and would have happened regardless, but there are some who may view this tale as a superstitious lesson on greed. Hinemihi was originally situated at Te Wairoa, but later purchased, dismantled, and reinstalled on the Earl of Onslow’s English Estate. There is a series of photographs taken by Mark Adams where he captures the unsettling contrast between Hinemihi isolated and out of place at Clandon Park in Surrey, with the comparison to an image taken of her original whenua in Te Wairoa.
Bringing us into the present, at the beginning of this year on 22 January 2026, Mauao, also known as ‘The Mount’ in Tauranga Moana, had a fatal landslide that went down on the Mount Maunganui Beachside Holiday Park, taking the lives of six people. It’s important to note that just the day before, on 21 January 2026, it was Tauranga’s wettest day on record. When the external review and Government inquiry came out, it was uncovered that the council were well aware of the risk of a fatal landslide, dating all the way back to at least 1999. These warnings involved multiple experts and continued over the years, warning them directly about the site of the Holiday Park where it happened.
In both cases, the parallel between Tarawera and Mauao – the relationship between people, the landscape, and tourism – become central to the story. With regard to Mauao it brings forth the uncomfortable question of why people continue to occupy or develop places where significant risks have been identified. Is it not wanting to relocate and spend money on safety? We have the resources and experts to prepare and ultimately avoid certain disasters such as the fatal landslide on Mauao. We see this time and time again, including in Tāmaki Makaurau with development on flood-prone land. It's a connection built around environmental risk, human decisions, and the consequence of failing to respond to evidence.
Widening this kōrero to the modern and economic context of present Aotearoa, New Zealand First is campaigning for a controversial revised version of the Conservation Amendment Bill. Specifically, clause 6ea, which enables commercial activities, such as mining, on public conservation land. This raises questions about the balance between economic development, environmental protection, and obligations to the whenua. Again, as a cautionary tale in the present, I’m emphasising the danger of treating land primarily as a source of revenue rather than as an ecosystem and place of deep cultural significance. Warning signs come in many forms, such as the phantom waka taua, or as literal as scientific environmental research. When those in power choose to ignore these warnings, it is our responsibility to hold them accountable.
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