The road signs get better as I drive south and east to Whakatane (pronounced Fu-ka-ta-ne) and White Island. On the way I get a pleasant spread of New Zealand countryside from mountains and forests to fields with cows and sheep to volcanic sulphur vents at Rotorua. If the name sounds familiar, a Kiwi owned ship of the same name was torpedoed in Lyme Bay in 1917.
I check in with Tony at Sportsworld/Dive White late on a pleasant sunny afternoon. White Island, New Zealand's most active volcano, is smouldering away on the horizon. The only clouds in an otherwise perfect blue sky.
Overnight the wind picks up slightly, but is nothing by local or UK standards. The boat planes all 30 miles to White Island and a few miles on to Laison's Reef in 90 minutes. Anchor hooked in to the top of the reef at 14 metres we descend and drop over the sheer side. Geologically, Laison's is an old volcanic plug, the cinder cone eroded to leave a pinnacle standing up from a 130 metre seabed.
We don't have to swim far. Just pick a good spot on the wall and see what happens. Huge shoals of pink maomao soon get curious and swarm in close, then part as stingrays cruise by.
It's one of those strange problems usually associated with sharks. No matter how deep I go, the stingrays are always a couple of metres deeper. The converse is also true; ascending the pinnacle the stingrays are still passing only a couple of metres beneath me. I have some success once we get back into the kelp. Hiding amongst the foliage and holding my breath brings the occasional ray closer to my level.
If only for my rebreather. I could have just about fitted it into the baggage allowance, but arranging supplies for it could have been tricky. Quite honestly, I have so much diving and camera kit to travel with I wouldn't really want the added hassle.
We are just beginning to ascend the anchor line when it pings loose. Dive guide Gazza follows the line, I let go and pop my delayed SMB. Decompressing at 3 metres a cloud of pink maomao ascends to check me out. The stingrays may be fickle, but the maomao certainly aren't.
I have my best dive of the trip so far. Gazza nonchalantly points out that it was better yesterday.
For a second dive we head on to Volkner Rocks, more submerged volcanic remains about 5 miles from White Island and scheduled to become a marine reserve. The site here is Diadema Pinnacle, a shallower and smaller knife edged reef named after the sea urchins we soon find grazing its sides. The sea urchins may be colourful, but I spend most of the dive mesmerised by the absolutely huge shoal of blue maomao that obscures just about everything.
I have only been in New Zealand a week and already I can see why so many emigrate there. At least half the dive guides and instructors I have met have been immigrants or on extended working travel visas, and many of those are looking to make it permanent. In addition to us Brits there also seems to be a surprising number of Dutch.
Even on the flight I had been reminded of just what a popular place this is. A UK newspaper article commented how the New Zealand police had just let it be known they were recruiting and had easily got 200 officers from UK city forces signed up.
Sunday is busier with locals out in their own boats. One in four New Zealand households owns a boat.
We dive at Homestead and Spanish Arch, sites on the south shore of White Island. Rocky reefs with a crest of kelp and lots of fish. As the name implies, Spanish Arch has an archway through the reef. It also has a resident seal who is keen to play with the snorkellers from another boat, but not so interested in divers.
Both are nice dives, but not in the same league as Saturday's pinnacles.
If Cousteau ever visited White Island, he must have flipped a coin to decide which to list in his top 10. If you go to New Zealand, you have to dive White Island.