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.
‘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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