The Lava Tubes of Rangitoto

 I squatted down next to the cave entrance, shining my Elzetta EB-60 flashlight into the darkness. The cave sloped downward, forcing whoever chose to enter it to squat, or crawl on their hands and knees for at least as far as I could see. I’d been told these lava tubes were perfectly safe and not particularly deep, but the idea of getting lost in a place with no light scared me almost as much as the thought of falling from extreme heights.

“What do you think?” My companion asked. Ryan was another American, from the Midwest somewhere. He was in New Zealand looking for work. We’d bonded at the observation point on top of the small volcano island, Rangitoto, we were currently exploring. I knew I’d like him the moment he whipped out a tiny Lego figure dressed like Indiana Jones and took a picture of it.

“You ever seen “The Descent?” I asked, grinning. 

“That the horror movie where people go into caves and get attacked by horrible monster humans that are blind from lack of sunlight?” he answered as he made a face.

“That’d be the one.” I dug in my bag for my second flashlight. “Come on. I give it a ninety seven percent chance there aren’t cannibal mutant freaks in there.”

The lava tube narrowed sharply for about a meter after the initial entrance before opening up into a chamber large enough to stand up in. As always, I was surprised at how quickly the rock absorbed natural light, and made the cave darker than a moonless night. I shined my flashlight around, it’s shockingly bright beam cutting a swath of light through the darkness.

“Cool.”

Long tendrils of moss hung from the roof, with tiny droplets of water on them. I ducked underneath and pushed forward, making room for Ryan.  Once inside I could see there was nothing to fear, no bats, no monsters, no hidden evils, though a certain nervousness still tickled at the back of my mind. The cave welcomed us, the dark folding around us as we made our way deeper, and up a slight incline. After about twenty meters I shut off my light and squinted.

“There’s light up here.” Ryan shut his light off and looked.

“So there is.”

Turning our lights on we moved forward, finding the source of the light to be a manhole sized second entrance/ exit to the cave. We pushed our way through and out, and emerged into bright sunlight.

The island we were on, Rangitoto, is roughly five square kilometers of volcanic rock and lava tubes. It’s name means (something about fire gods), and comes from a Maori legend. The volcano erupted as recently as five hundred years ago, and it looks like it. Hardscrabble trees and bushes struggle their way out of the uneven ground, and the terrain not covered in vegetation is entirely sharp angled rock, with the same edges it had when it spilled out of the ground five hundred years ago as molten lava.

Jen, my cousin, had turned me loose on Auckland after picking me up at the airport. Unfortunately, she had to work during the time that I was there, so I was mostly on my own.

Which was fine. My mindset wasn’t quite ready for a lot of companionship. My brain was still trying to come to terms with the fact that I could turn on the faucet and clean water would come out, and that nearly everyone around me spoke English as their first language. I knew I’d ditch Ryan the second it became convenient, not because I didn’t like him, but because I wanted alone time. I chose Rangitoto because it was outside, and I’d always felt at home outside. Outside I could walk away and be alone, process my feelings.

We take so much for granted. Our water is clean, our food is safe, there are police and hospital services to save us if something goes wrong, or at least pick up the pieces after. I felt so safe those first few days in New Zealand that I thought I was falling into some kind of trap. Knowing these thoughts were, at best, paranoid, I’d sought out alone time to help me sort them out.

But I wasn’t alone. I had naturally sought out Ryan, formed a bond with him over the smallest and most trivial of things. That little Lego Indiana Jones. I first noticed him setting it up while at the top observation post on the island, and after he’d taken a photo, we’d struck up a conversation.

When he accidentally dropped Indiana through the floorboards of the observation deck, I hadn’t thought at all about jumping over the side and dropping two meters to look for it. It was only later that I realized that I had more or less completely ignored the socialized voice in the back of my head telling me that maybe I shouldn’t jump over the railing.

I just did it. I think travel in the third world made me kinder while at the same time toughening me up and expanding my mind. It highlighted what social rules were important and which were not. Kindness, politeness and a willingness to help others are gold, no matter what country you’re in.

-Doug