A desolate, dangerous wonder

White Island’s constant plume of white steam is as distinctive today as when Captain Cook named the island in 1769, writes Pamela Wade.

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‘It’s like Rotorua on steroids,’’ our pilot Luke says, as eye-watering clouds of sulphurous steam billow around us and we grab for our gas masks again. Beyond a lake of sinister murky turquoise, blowholes emit continuous power-blasts of white clouds...

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