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In 2010, Christchurch in the South Island of New Zealand was damaged by a severe earthquake. A series of tremors followed, both frequent and severe. The severest of the shakes occurred at 4.25 a.m. on September 4th. This resulted from a previously unknown geological fault.
Being only six miles deep, this main earthquake of 7.1 magnitude on the Richter scale resulted in widespread surface damage to the land.
Aftershocks followed, vibrating the land's surface, turning it into liquid mud called liquefaction. These thousands of aftershocks continued for months after the main event.
Although much damage occurred, there was no loss of life. Strict building codes had been enforced in recent years, while earlier buildings had stood the test of time.
A few months later, the most severe aftershock struck in the afternoon of February 22nd 2011. Although of a lesser magnitude, this aftershock devastated the infrastructure of New Zealand's second largest city, and resulted in 185 deaths. The business centre had been built on an old swamp following an earthquake in the 1880s. The business centre was razed to the ground. From within the ruined buildings, some people were recorded sending out heart breaking cell phone messages as they slowly died of crush injuries or asphyxiation.
Rebuilding was a slow and tortuous business for most people. Nearly all the insurance companies involved dragged the chain, control over the process became mired in bureaucracy, and the aftershocks continued. On the one hand the government trumpeted its successes, while on the other hand thousands of people quit Christchurch in search of a less stressful environment.
The town of Weatherston to the south expanded rapidly as insurance claims were eventually met. People reasoned that they could return to Christchurch, or even commute back to their business or work place when the city had been rebuilt.
As a railhead for inland areas and Christchurch further to the north, Weatherston was a major link to the West Coast regions, supplementing the only major road to that area. But Weatherston had no port facilities, which were desperately needed since the destruction of Lyttelton, the port of Christchurch. The geography was such that Weatherston was some distance inland, and a container port could not be built on that part of the coast.
North of Christchurch was the small port of Grantville. Its access to deep water allowed the development of a larger port. The port authorities of Tauranga, Auckland and Dunedin joined with the government to create a new container port to service Christchurch, Weatherston and the north of the South Island. Warehouses and factories were built as more money was released. Residential houses sprang up like autumn mushrooms as the government successfully managed to recovery process.
North of Grantville was the existing town of Kaikoura. Its main industries were servicing the widespread farming communities, and tourism. Like Grantville, Kaikoura had prospered in the years following both Canterbury earthquakes. It was deemed not suitable for a deep sea port facility but provided an essential link in the rail line taking freight from Christchurch through Grantville to Kaikoura and on to the Blenheim and Nelson regions.
In the very early morning of February 14th, 2016 a devastating 7.8 magnitude earthquake struck the district some 37 miles south of Kaikoura. The shake lasted an incredible two minutes and killed two people.
The greatest amount of seismic energy hit the Kaikoura and Mount Lyford areas. There were only two deaths because Culverden, which was inland, and Kaikoura on the coast were small settlements in sparsely populated areas.
Fractures of the earth's surface were common even though the epicentre was nearly ten miles deep. The ground was riven with fissures and cracks, mudslides were common and some mountain sides fell to the valleys below.
Among the most serious consequences was the total destruction of the South Island Main Trunk railway line. Television pictures showed the twisted rails hanging in the air, or twisted like a ball of wool.
In New Zealand, the character of the people is to just get on with it. This time, the government responded rapidly. Astonishingly, the whole hundreds of kilometres of rail line were replaced within a year, by government action and unsung heroes in the construction and rail industry.
The aftershocks continued for some time, and then there was calm. Restoration of the damage could proceed.
Earthquakes do not happen every day in New Zealand, but there had been several severe quakes in recent years. To be driving during a strong earthquake is a very frightening experience. One is not sure whether it is the car that is moving or the world around it. Because both the car and the road move unexpectedly, it is extremely difficult to control the vehicle. Consequently, people die from hitting bridges, unable to counter the huge force throwing them sideways. They die when the road itself lurches and throws the car over the edge of a drop. They die when the car is flung into a river and submerges. They die in rock and mudslides. Richard West was caught in such a mudslide while on his way back to Weatherston in the South Island of New Zealand.
Richard West was returning from Fern Valley, north and inland from Christchurch, where he had been the temporary School Principal. The day before there had been a very pleasant ceremony to return stolen relics to ancestral Maori graves. Richard was rewarded for his efforts in resolving the problems of the district and for his part in the return of the Maori artefacts by the gift of a jade hei tiki, a Maori neck ornament. His wife, Alex, who was part Maori, was very proud of Richard receiving such an honour. Jo, their fifteen year old daughter, was in the back seat of the Toyota.
Following an earthquake the road to Christchurch and then on to their home in Weatherston was still under repair, being restricted to one lane. Early January was the peak time for tourists to travel through the South Island.
"Shall we stop in Grantville for a cup of tea before the next long stretch?" asked Alex. "We could face long delays at the reconstruction zone."
"It's too early. I'd like to get home," said Richard. "We haven't been on the road long. How about we get through Grantville and then take the bypass road. It's narrow but it's got a good surface. You do get trucks though."
"It's the holiday makers and tourists in their motorhomes," said Alex. "They clog up the roads at this time of the year. They won't be on the bypass. Let's do it."
Grantville had grown enormously since the Christchurch earthquake. It was on the coast north of Christchurch, with new port facilities. Richard arrived at the T-junction and signalled he wanted to turn right. He had to give way to a string of mobile homes and campervans driving from the Picton ferry to the north. His fingers tapped the steering wheel impatiently.
"This is New Zealand?" he said impatiently. "When did our roads clog up like this?"
"Most of our roads were made in an era when only two million lived here," said Alex. "Now there are more than double that."
There was a gap created by a campervan that flashed its lights and slowed so that Richard could make his turn. Richard raised his hand to say 'Thank you.' He noticed the driver was an older man. Although the speed limit was one hundred kilometres per hour the line of traffic moved at seventy. A sign said 'Passing Lane 4 km Ahead' but when they got to it the line of traffic had accelerated and closed ranks so there was no room for him to go by.
"The bypass is coming up," said Jo, reading from her cell phone. "Turn right, Dad."
"How far?" asked Richard.
"Two hundred metres."
"Thank you, Navigator. Guns, can you keep a look out please?"
"Yes, Chief," said Alex. "Look, the painted median strip. Pull on to it."
Because the on-coming traffic was controlled some distance down the road by traffic lights or a series of workers holding 'STOP' signs, the traffic from the south was moving in blocks with gaps in between. They did not have long to wait for a gap in the traffic. Richard turned with no cars or vans following him. The bypass road via Mount Linford seemed empty.
"Jo, are you sure this is our road?" asked Richard.
"Sure is," said Jo. "There's not another for at least..." Jo tapped on her phone. "Fifty kilometres. And that road is gravel."
The car made good speed, but the road was twisty and rose up and down as it led the way away from the coast to the rolling downlands of the interior.
They passed a car, then a tractor and trailer, waiting each time until they had a clear road. Then they got stuck behind a truck and trailer. It was moving along quite fast. Although Richard wanted to get by the unit was too long to overtake on that stretch of road.
There was nothing except rolling countryside, with here and there a grove of trees or a macrocarpa hedge sheltering a farmhouse. Two rural mail boxes belonging to opposite neighbours were sometimes grouped together, but more often than not mail boxes were a kilometre or so apart.
"This is heartland New Zealand," said Alex. "Why would people want to live in a city like Auckland?"
"For fun and movies and friends and shopping and hospitals and public transport," said Jo. "The turn-off to Te Kouka is coming up."
"I applied for job there once," said Richard. "It had only two teachers. The Government has been closing down schools like that as quickly as it can. Shame. Damn good schools, they are, and the centre of the community. Didn't get the job."
"Just as well," said Alex.
"The internet says it has twenty pupils aged from five to twelve," said Jo. "It has one teacher. Boy, that would be hard work."
The bypass road began to climb just after they passed the Te Kouka turn off on the right. The truck and trailer kept its speed up for some time but then it began to slow right down as the gradients increased, the heavy load it was carrying forcing it to a crawl. The driver signalled with his left indicator and pulled on to the road shoulder. Richard pulled out to pass, raising his hand to thank the driver for his courtesy.
"That's better," said Richard. "We'll make better time now."
Richard pulled back on to the left hand side of the road as his Toyota gathered speed. Looking ahead, he saw that they were about to enter a cutting through the hillside. He looked in the rear view mirror. The truck was falling behind. Suddenly, the road in front of the car formed long rises and hollows like the waves at the beach. Richard thought he was having some sort of illusion or brainstorm. He put his foot on the brake. Then the car began to twist and lurch. Richard felt the car shake wildly as he struggled to bring it to a halt.
"Flat tyre!"
As the car stopped, Richard saw that it was really the road that was moving under the car, not the car moving over the road. Although now stationary, the car shook madly.
"Don't get out!" he yelled at his daughter Jo, who had opened the rear door.
"Shut the door, Jo," shouted Alex above the roar of the shake.
The car was corkscrewing, going up at the front then down, and from side to side. Alex said, "We're going to roll over!"
"Keep your seat belts on!" called Richard. "Even if we roll over, keep them on."
The car was in a cutting, with steep banks going up on each side. In his rear vision mirror, Richard could see the truck he had overtaken. The driver had pulled in, just as Richard had. The truck was further down the hill, parked before the cutting. The driver put his lights on.
As Richard reached for his light switch, Alex screamed, "Look out!"
Richard looked up to see the right hand side of the cutting falling, its top surface curling over like a wave breaking. The cutting was a natural chute, a funnel with a car at its narrow end. The violent motion of the earthquake liquefied the mud and slush. The rocks seemed to melt into the liquefaction as the earthquake shook the falling rocks and mud, turning them to liquid. A river of liquid mud came down the road towards the car bringing huge rocks in its flow.
Richard thrust the gear change into reverse but the landslide was moving too fast and the road was still rocking and rolling violently. The mud and the rocks hit their car with a bang, lifting the front of the Toyota and driving it backwards. The liquefaction rose over the bonnet of the car, where it rested for a moment before rising over the windscreen.
To Alex, the mud and stones pressing on the glass in front of her were the inside of a taniwha's mouth, a river dragon intent on swallowing them whole. Its throat was a dirty yellow-brown as it swallowed the whole car and shut out the light. Jo screamed and Alex followed suit. It was pitch black. Richard could feel the car sliding backwards but he could see nothing. He released the brakes in the hope that the car would be carried down the cutting by the flood of mud. It appeared to be so, as the car began gathering momentum while it slid down the cutting. Then the mud flow reached the end of the narrow chute and spilled over the side of the road, carrying the car with it.
"Hang on tight. Mind your head," yelled Richard. He held on to the steering wheel in desperation as the car rolled over, turning front over back. The car moved faster on its roof, gathering speed and swinging to the right then over the edge.
There was a horrible two seconds as the car fell. Alex, Jo and Richard felt weightless for short time. The mud surrounding them cushioned their fall, then once more the car turned turtle, throwing them against their seat belts as the back of the car rose over the front. The airbags exploded, momentarily covering Richard and Alex. As they fought their way out of the plastic sheet that covered them like a shroud, they both tried to turn to help Jo.
They banged their heads against each other's.
"Are you two all right," shouted Jo The side impact bags had protected her. For a split second Richard felt grateful for choosing a car with full safety equipment.
"Yes, Jo," said Alex in a loud voice. Then she said, "Richard, do something!"