What had sounded like the most romantic adventure ever ... A flight, just for us, to the top the tallest mountain in The New Zealand Alps, looking down at the clouds, hundreds of feet below ... had now deteriorated into a game of ‘Whose got the barf bags?”

The plane that brought us to Camp Cook, which was just half way up the mountain, had landed, dumped us, and left. So, here we sit in this cement box which is the Camp Cook Terminal building, waiting for our plane ... which somehow ...is lost.

The Camp Cook Airlines fleet consisted of two, four passenger ski planes, one of which is lost. The other, which had been out trying to find it’s missing counterpart, was now approaching and the skinny young man at the reception counter was diligently putting a revised ETA on his little chalkboard. This guy was so skinny, all you could see was his Adam's apple jumping up and down as the words fell out. Don asked him if we could just go on back down to wherever it was we came from and blow off the romantic part. “Well, sure you can.” said the skinny young man, as he indicated the one other piece of info on his chalkboard, “That plane will be back at four.”

“That’s five hours.” said Don, “Can’t you just call them and tell them we’re ready now?”

“Well, I could call them but they have other runs to make.”was the response, “There’s no way they’ll be here before four.”he could tell Don was not pleased. “But, you can bet they’ll be right on time.”

“That’s five hours!”

“Yessir, it is. And it’ll be the most beautiful five hours of your life when you look at the world from the top of Mount Cook.”

About that time, the pilot from the search plane walked into the cement box-terminal saying, “No luck.”

“The other plane is still lost?” I asked the pilot, who I would have guessed to be all of about fifteen.

“Yes, but no matter. They’ll be fine.” said the young flyer, “You guys ready to go?”

“How do you know they’ll be fine? They’re lost for God’s sake!” said Don.

“We have these electromagnetic things that happen from time to time and the radio’s don’t work at all. It never lasts much more than a couple of hours.” The pilot was trying very hard not to scare us. “When it passes, they’ll call and tell us where they are and we’ll just go pull them out.”

“Pull them out?” I said.

“Pull them out of what?” asked Don.

The skinny receptionist seemed very proud as he told us, “Sometimes, as they fly to the top of the mountain, the passengers will become so captivated by the beauty of it all, they’ll ask if they can land and be surrounded by it for a bit. If the weather’s nice, we normally try to accommodate them. Every now and then though, right beneath that beautiful surface, there’s a slush hole and they sink. Once that happens, the other plane has to go pull them out.”

“The plane sinks?” Don was not liking this ... at all.

“Well, not the whole plane. Just the skis. But still, we have to pull them out of the slush back onto solid snow. Then, everything is fine.” The young receptionist seemed very proud as he concluded, “Haven’t lost one yet!”

It took more than a little persuading, but I was able to talk Don into flying on, to the top of the mountain. No slush holes there, it was solid ice. The pilot had not exaggerated a bit when he said, ‘...the most beautiful (time) of your life when you see the world from the top of Mount Cook.’

We were literally on the mountain ‘peak,’ which could not have been more than a couple of hundred yards across, and when you looked down, you really did see the tops of the clouds. But above, below, and all around us, was the shimmering blue of the sky, and ... complete silence. It was not just ‘very quiet’ ... it was the absolute absence of sound. It was scary. “Okay. That’s great. Let’s go.” Don suggested. And we did.

That afternoon, back in Auckland, we met David Gapes, who was then one of New Zealand’s most respected broadcasters. Only a few years before, David had taken on the whole New Zealand government, and was declared ... a pirate!

When New Zealand broadcasting was still all government owned and operated, David had applied, again and again, to get a private broadcasting license. But, every time, the government turned him down. Finally, David said, “To hell with them.” He put a radio station on the air without worrying about government approval. He played the hits and the young New Zealanders loved it ... too much. The government shut him down and locked him up.

Three months later David was a free man. He had spent those ninety days studying the ‘International Rules Of Broadcasting” and he became aware of a law which said that no government could dictate what was broadcast in international waters. International waters meaning more than three miles from land. With a couple of partners, he bought an old ship. The ship was called, the TIRI (pronounced tear-ee). The TIRI needed a lot of work before she would be ready for the rough International waters just beyond New Zealand's 3 mile limit. There, in ‘International Waters’, the David made certain, the signal from The TIRI which he called Radio Hauraki, was loud and clear in Auckland. And, they prepared to go to sea.

One day before setting sail, the TIRI was detained. Radio Hauraki is prevented from taking the TIRI to sea - by the Government. David, and the rest of the Hauraki people decided to set sail in spite of the ‘official’ no-no. But, the TIRI got stuck under a draw bridge, which the government refused to raise. But ... with a little help from over two hundred Radio Huaraki fans who were lined up along the wharf to cheer, the TIRI, is set free and starts sailing toward the three mile line. But, the police came, boarded the ship and cut the fuel line which shut down the main engine. The Hauraki crew is arrested and they spent the night in jail.

In less than three weeks the fuel line is fixed and this time, under the cover of night, the TIRI takes to sea and finds safety just beyond the three mile line. Once again, they begin to broadcast to New Zealand the kind of radio which was taking over the rest of the world ... pop music. In less than three months every audience measurement taken in Auckland put Radio Hauraki, Pirate Radio, far in front of the staid old government stations.

The NZ Coast Guard were watching that three mile barrier very closely, and one stormy night, strong winds blew the ship across the line. Almost at once, The Coast Gaurd boarded the ship, once again, the fuels lines were cut and the transmitter was made inoperable.

Almost at once, Hauraki.set up a public meeting in the Auckland Town Hall. David was careful to be certain that Government Spokespersons are invited to speak. Over 2,000 Hauraki supporters jammed the Auckland Town Hall with banners reading: "LICENSE RADIO HAURAKI"; "WE WANT PIRATES"; "SURFIES SUPPORT HAURAKI"; FLAT EARTH SOCIETY SUPPORTS RADIO HAURAKI"; "DOWN WITH THE NZBC".

The whole thing makes headlines. Hauraki and the government go to court. When the whole story was told, a very wise judge makes a monumental decision ... “It is my opinion, the members of the New Zealand Coast Guard that boarded this unguarded ship under the cover of night, and destroyed the broadcasters ability to carry out a perfectly legal operation ... they, the New Zealand Coast Guard are the real pirates. I hereby rule that Radio Hauraki is never not be touched by the Coast Guard again, but also, that the New Zealand government, under which the Coast Guard was acting, shall issue a legal broadcast license to David Gapes and Radio Hauraki, forthwith.

From that moment on private commercial radio was legalized in New Zealand.

And, Radio Hauraki was Number One.

And David Gapes. 

What a guy.