FINAL REFLECTIONS

NICOLE BENNIK

I HAVEN’T been back long, but I miss Greymouth – the sense of community, the compassion for others.

I love Wellington and the people here, but the heart Greymouth has shown is inspirational.

People acknowledge you with a smile or a nod as you walk past, it feels safe to leave belongings unattended, love and understanding shines through everyone’s eyes.

It is a town united and people there will be strong for each other for a long time.

It was an honour to work at the Greymouth Star. A large mural on the side of the building depicting major events in its history shows it is at the heart of the community. I wonder if a tribute to the lost miners will be added soon.
Throughout the day locals ring to share their stories, asking how you were getting on, genuinely interested in the answer.

Despite trying circumstances, the staff were helpful, friendly and very patient.They showed commendable respect when reporting, and made me feel like part of the family very quickly.

Flying back from Hokitika I gazed out the window. Masses of white cloud behind us seemed metaphorical of the cloak of grief that smothered the town I had grown to respect.

The Southern Alps with patches of snow stood tall and strong like the people I had met.

Wellington Airport felt foreign to me as we landed. Crowds of people busy in their own worlds, drinking coffees, discussing politics, walking hastily to get to where they needed to go.

Everyone seems rushed and distant in comparison.

My flatmates gave me a hug when I walked in the door. They had been brought to tears when they heard of the second explosion.

I had no idea that shortly after Greg and I had a minute’s silence for those that had lost lives, a third explosion occurred. Every blast shatters my heart for the famillies who so desperately want their loved ones’ bodies recovered.

Reflecting on the last few days, it all seems surreal.

Hearing people’s stories, the intensity of the situation, the crowds of media, watching events unfold, spending my first days in a newsroom during a major critical incident.

I doubt I’ll forget any of it anytime soon.

Thank you, Greymouth, for the lessons you have taught me. I hope the next time I visit will be in happier circumstances.

Thank you, Greymouth Star, for the valuable experience. You made my first time in a newsroom welcoming, challenging and cemented my dream of being a journalist. Thank you reader for sharing in it with me.

Saturday, November 27

GREG FORD

LAST night it was easier to sleep. The anxiety of what to expect in the newsroom had melted away somewhat.

Start time in the newsroom was again 7.30 am.  En route to the office, it was a bright and sunny day, and there seemed to be more people about in comparison to the day before.

In the Robert Harris coffee house they were more prepared today, with the covers already off the cabinet containing the morning fancies.

A group of local police officials sat around a table and a smile could be seen on their faces. Some of the pressure of the last six days looked like it had gone.

Arriving at our desks was a completely different experience than before.  The atmosphere had cooled, and it was to be less stressed for the whole day.

There were still stories to work on, and we still had to get on the phone, but the whole feeling in the office was different.

News conference was held, and Nicole and I were left with a story to explain which events been cancelled and which were still going ahead.

Other stories would come from press releases or when the chief reporter gave us something.

Our story was written quickly after a string of calls, after which I was asked to try and get hold of a local volunteer fire service which was thought to be the first on the scene.

The remit was to write a story and give credit to this small country service from Ikamatua, up in the hills.

However, no-one was ready to talk. “Perhaps next week,” said the area Fire Office manager.

Laura the chief reporter was cool about it, shrugged her shoulders and said it’s okay: “The story will come when they are ready.”

The morning passed quickly, and we were told we would not be needed after today.

But, after lunch we were told of a press conference at the Grey district council, which we were keen to attend.

This was an amazing experience for newby journos, as there were press hacks and other media from all over the world.

TV Cameras lined up facing the speaker’s position like a firing squad.  The reading stand was covered with microphones from a number of media outlets.

We spoke with Mike McRoberts, Rachel Smalley, Patrick Gower and Eric Frykberg, just to name a few.  Also present was the MP for Te Tai Tonga, Rahui Katene, who through co-incidence knew my old journalism tutor Queenie Rikihana.

Peter Whittall spoke to the press first.  He has been a rock, and deserves praise for the way he has fronted up all along.

He explained about the robot damage, and how the second explosion caused a lot more violent activity. He also told the press about options to make the mine safe and possible re-entry plans to get the bodies out.

Lastly, he said there was to be a minute silence at 3.44pm today, because it’s exactly one week since the first explosion. Little did he know that there would be third one happening just before that service was due to go ahead.

Also speaking was Pike River chairman John Dow, who spoke about the continuance of the mine with re-negotiation of loans, and the $100 million insurance policy that they have.

We left the conference, and I managed to say a couple of words to John Dow as he passed me. I simply said:”Good Luck”. I didn’t really know what to say, that was all I could think of at the time.

It was time to leave the newsroom and head off home to Wellington, so we said our goodbyes and off we went.

After packing, we held our own minute of silence for the miners at Dukes hostel, which had been our home for the last two nights. Nicole and I joined the manager, along with four other unknown guests, in bowing our heads at precisely 3.44pm.

When the minute finished, the world continued as before, but we felt pleased that we had paid our respects in a small way.

Catching a flight from Hokitika to Christchurch, we left as we had arrived – through a blanket of cloud, departing a close-knit community so devastated by recent happenings it made me feel as though I was leaving something special behind.

We had been involved, in a small way, in a part of this country’s history.

Having been involved in a national disaster as a victim, I found it more difficult being a reporter.

As a disaster victim, you know how you feel, and it doesn’t matter how you react to people, as it will be accepted as a reaction to the disaster.

As a reporter, you are always having to tread carefully, so as not to add to the victim’s pain whilst at the same time having to bear in mind you are under pressure to produce something to deadline for your readers.

Looking at the snow-covered mountains almost 12,000 feet below, it didn’t seem possible that such a disaster would have taken place just up the road.

But for us, it had been a brief window into the pain a small mining town on the West Coast had to endure.

We knew that soon we would be back into our normal daily routines, but for some people we had met we knew it would take a lot longer longer to achieve this.

It was a privilege for us to be allowed into a newsroom with as much history as this one, and I will always remember this experience.

I admire and thank editor Paul Madgwick and the staff at the Greymouth Star. They kept it going in extremely difficult circumstances.

NICOLE BENNIK

GREYMOUTH residents showed their strength on my last day in town covering the aftermath of the deaths at Pike River coal mine.

Ever-friendly locals seem to have found some closure and determination to carry on.

I get a few smiles as I walk through the town. Twice the number of people are out and about than yesterday.

Tied on lamp-posts, signs and buildings, yellow ribbons still sway in the wind.

One woman stands outside the ANZ bank, where a large sign says: “Our thoughts are with you all.”

She sobs into her cellphone. “I’m not coping. I can’t cope. I have to cope. I just have to tell myself to get on with it.”

An elderly man apparently unknown to her pats her on the shoulder as he walks past.

Some were still angry about large numbers of media descending upon their normally quiet home town, others relieved they were gone.

A middle-aged woman told me it was nice to do her shopping in peace and not have to worry about a camera on every corner.

People just want to go back to normality.

I was tasked with trying to interview the bus driver who was last to see the miners alive.

He was hurt by the way he had been treated by larger media outlets and chose not to comment.

A press conference in the afternoon was noticeably smaller than those on previous days.

The heavyweights of New Zealand media scribble notes and fight in volume to get their questions answered.

Mike McRoberts, Peter Williams, Patrick Gower and others sat among still and video cameras respectfully asking questions and making notes.

As always, mine company bosses Peter Whittall and John Dow spoke admirably, proving to be proud representatives of the people of Greymouth.

It was then it truly hit home.

This event will go down in the history books as one of New Zealand’s biggest tragedies.

GREYMOUTH: Friday, November 26

NICOLE BENNIK

PEOPLE are out doing their grocery shopping, putting their rubbish out, doing all the mundane, everyday tasks, proving that life must go on.

There were a lot more people out last night, but a noticeably smaller number of media.

The hordes of international media seemed to have disappeared by evening.

The only overseas news presenter I saw yesterday was at the Greymouth Star.

Australia’s Brett Mason from Channel 10 visits the paper for a story about its impressive printing press.

He speaks to me as I watch the paper being printed.

Brett had only 45 minutes to prepare before jumping on a plane from Sydney to the small mining community on our West Coast on Friday, and will be heading back home soon.

He apologises for his counterparts, as I’m handed a copy of the paper literally hot off the press.

At Speights Ale House, the out-of-towners stick out alongside the locals.

TV3′s Mike McRoberts sits at the next table with a group of other journalists. TV1′s Peter Williams is at the neighbouring pub.

A woman wearing a Maori TV jacket walks past us and sits next to a table of men raising a toast to “the boys”.

Walking back to our accommodation, I notice yellow ribbons still tied around lamp posts and displayed in shop fronts.

Messages of love and support for the people affected by the tragedy are in many shop windows.

A single white candle sits next to a water feature in the middle of the town.

There is a bouquet of flowers outside ASB Bank, with a condolence book.

Despite the contrast to previous days, I am reminded the town is still grieving when I see a man in his 30s sitting against a building with his head down, being comforted by a friend.

The past week is not far off in anyone’s mind.

GREG FORD

AFTER lunch, we had a meeting in the editor’s office.

He expressed his thanks to staff for working so hard over the last week or so, and felt that now the pressure is off a bit.

At the same time the press was rolling, and we had the opportunity to watch as the pages were being printed.

Nicole was handed the first paper off the press – pretty cool, and pretty quickly found the stories we had written that morning.

It’s pretty amazing to see the story you have finished about an hour before, coming out in print, knowing that soon around 35,000 may be reading it.

News teams from TV1 and Channel 10 in Australia (with presenter Brett Mason) were present in the print room to show to the public that life is continuing in the town.

They said the rolling of the press should signify that the wheels of life go on in the town.

The afternoon session was not so pressurised, and finished around 4pm.

We headed out for a stroll – the streets were pretty empty, and people we spoke to relived their memories of lost friends, or of friends who lost friends.

One girl in the sports shop said she had not lost anyone of her family, but did know some of the blokes down there, and her best friend had lost her boyfriend.

It brings it home how close the tragedy was to the hearts of the people of Greymouth.

Having dinner in the local Speights Ale house we were engulfed by TV3′s Mike McRoberts and his news team, who were also there for dinner.

In the pub next door, TV1′s Peter Williams and his team were enjoying a pint.

They were no longer hugging the street corners with their bright lights and cameras.

The mood was definitely more upbeat, and as the evening drew on there were more ordinary people in the pubs and on the streets.

The feeling we got was that the people had achieved something towards closure, and now it’s time to move forward.

Tourists continue to mill around the town in their camper vans, and I guess they don’t realise or comprehend what the area has been through.

We went to bed feeling a lot better than the night before, but already thinking about the day ahead, and what’s expected of us in a newsroom that has been bombarded by bad news recently, but one that has held strong.

Thursday, November 25

NICOLE BENNIK

I found it hard to get to sleep last night, despite feeling emotionally exhausted.

Thoughts ran through my head, and the adrenaline from flying into a new adventure had left me.

Greg and I had been at a vigil at Greymouth’s Holy Trinity Church from 7.30pm.

Pure anguish showed on the faces of those exiting the building, faces still imprinted in my mind.

Brian Steele has friends who are close with some of the family of miners who have lost their lives. He spoke to me about his experience.

“What a blow. It’s really, really sad. I just feel for all the families and their extended families.”

With tears in his eyes, he seemed lost standing outside the media scrum.

He said it helped to talk, even if the media presence could be quite overwhelming.

Three helicopters flew above the church and the man looked touched.

He is thankful for all the support and, like many of the locals I have spoken to, appreciative of a listening ear.

We walked back to our accommodation as John Campbell, Mark Sainsbury and vehicles marked with One News and 3News logos sped past.

Off camera, news staff looked exhausted. Some could be seen wiping away tears.

Although several groups of media people clustered around, only the occasional ringing of cellphones broke the silence.

After a long day, I was looking forward to bed.

I’m sharing a backpackers’ with a mix of media, RAF rescuers and tourists.

I could hear people talking into the early hours of the morning, comforting each other, repeating the words “shocked”, “exhausted”, “terrible”.

Today, we have been busy but I have seldom looked at the clock.

It’s hectic here in the Greymouth Star newsroom. A news conference reveals the close ties all staff have with the people of the community and families who have lost loved ones.

Everyone seems connected, and it was an honour to talk to those involved in the Strongman Mine disaster of January 19, 1967, an incident which although it happened 43 years ago is still fresh in the minds of Greymouth residents.

Learning that the grandfather of Blair Sims (28), who lost his life in Pike River mine, was awarded a British Empire medal for helping recover the bodies at Strongman drives home how connected this community is.

I have been writing non-stop since 8am speaking to family members as reporters around me prepare for press conferences with leading figures such as PM John Key and Pike River CEO Peter Whittall.

Phones ring continually, a police scanner and radio is playing in the background as we write, and staff assigned different stories are rushing off to press conferences.

Looking at the clock, I see that it hasn’t even been 24 hours since the second violent blast.

It has been the heaviest 24 hours in my work experience.

I’ll try not to think about how families have found them.

In town, most people are covering their mouths and looking sombre. I haven’t seen a smile yet.

GREG FORD

Having a sleepless night worrying about story ideas is not the best start to the day, especially when I must be at the office of the Star at 7.30am.

I watch the grey sky overhead and wonder what’s in store today, the first day after confirmation of the loss of 29 lives in the Pike River mine. It feels as though a grey cloud hangs over us.

It’s a five-minute walk to the newspaper office. Already they are busy, and we are the last to arrive at 7.25am.  The mood seems better today, although there aren’t many people in town so early.

The heaps of file copies of newspapers remind me of the Whitireia Journalism School classroom. These papers are referred to frequently throughout the morning.

The computers are just as clunky and slow as at college.

In the newsroom 11 or 12 people are working furiously on their stories.  There’s not much time for talking.

News conference with the editor is at 8am, and we are assigned various stories. I am asked to ring the local churches to find out about what they are doing, and whether they are organising services.

I also write a story from a press release conveying sympathy and condolences from Buller Mayor Pat McManus.

The deadline is 11.30am, and whilst doing these stories I get a curve ball: I am asked to drop everything to try and get hold of two guys who escaped death in the mine.

I manage to get hold of one, but unfortunately he can’t talk to me this morning, so that’s a job for the afternoon.

Everyone here helps out when asked.  Cakes are brought in around lunchtime, and every now and then someone asks how we are getting on. A day in the life of a West Coast newspaper.

Wednesday, November 24

NICOLE BENNIK

There is media everywhere. Reporters from around the globe have converged on a small town at the bottom of the world.

As I wait outside the Greymouth Police Station for a press conference that is cancelled, a heavily pregnant woman rushes past me in tears.

A cameraman from TV One News turns to me: “Hard to watch that, huh?”

We are informed that it is “not appropriate” for a press conference.

A radio nearby explains why – a second explosion has destroyed all hope of a rescue. No-one could have survived it.

It feels like a punch to the stomach.

I have been in Greymouth less than an hour and was hoping for a positive outcome for the down-to-earth, friendly people and tight-knit community I have met.

Grown men are silent in the pub. A man in his 20s sprints down the street in distress, as his friend calls out to him. Many people have their arms around others.

Few words are shared, but empathetic looks and pats on the back show this pain 1s shared by all.

There are very few people out as the night progresses. It feels like a ghost town.

Groups of media have assembled at various street corners and are fiddling with cameras, microphones and the like. No-one on the street talks.

A few hours ago, I was in Wellington on a beautiful day, discussing what was being reported in the media and, in ignorance, trying to understand how people must be feeling.

I knew coming to Greymouth might not be easy, but I don’t think you can fully prepare for the sorrow that has cloaked this town.

A vigil is held at the Holy Trinity Church. As I arrive I see survivor Daniel Rockhouse, whose face is pale, being comforted by his partner.

A middle-age man appears to be struggling to walk, with two women on either side holding him.

As family members and friends leave the church, they walk in silence past dozens of cameras.

I speak to a few locals, who praise Pike River Coal chief executive Peter Whittall for his involvement with the media and his sincerity. Some are angry.

Many want to know what had caused the second explosion. All seem in shock.

No longer is this a town of hope. This is a town of mourning.

GREG FORD

Arriving at the Greymouth Star was like a baptism of fire.

We had left Wellington at 12.30 and arrived in Greymouth at 4 o’clock, after a flight to Christchurch and then one to Hokitika, which is the airport for Greymouth.

Editor Paul Madgwick gave us a five-minute tour, and provided us with pens and paper.

He then asked us to attend the news conference at the police station to be held for all media at 5.30, as well as speak to the grandfather of a mining family of three generations, whose grand-daughter’s husband was one of the missing miners.

We went to the police station where we were told the conference was cancelled. There had been another explosion – which none of the miners could have survived.

It was a bit surreal, as we had arrived in the town having some hope for the trapped miners. Now we heard it was all lost.

We felt a bit lost, so we went back to the newsroom.

The staff at the paper all have friends or relations who were either in the mine or work at the mine, so the disaster has hit them hard.

After some catching up with texts and emails, we went to the local Irish pub, where again the mood was sombre.

Outside on the street corner, we could see interviews being done for TV, and we were being shown them at the same time on the TV in the pub.

Everyone was transfixed to the television, and occasionally someone would move from their position at the bar to go and see what was happening across the road.

Every street corner had a media presence.

On the corner outside, we could see it was TV One’s Close Up, and a block down the road outside the court house it was TV3′s Campbell Live.

Minister of Energy Gerry Brownlee appeared on Close Up, then got into his four-wheel-drive  Toyota and sped 100 metres down the road to be interviewed for Campbell Live.

It seemed the “talent” was racing around the square, then waiting to be grilled by one or other of the news teams.

In the evening, there was a vigil at the Holy Trinity Anglican Church, which we turned up to, but it was very quiet.

About five or six media teams were there from around the world, but not much happened in or out of the church, and not too many people inside either.

The town was generally very quiet, with not many people around.

We did see Labour leader Phil Goff come out with his head bowed, but he rushed off without speaking to media.

Veteran RadioNZ reporter Eric Frykberg was there, but even he said that no-one wanted to talk.

We managed to speak to one man from Runanga – clearly upset at the deaths – who said it affected most people in the town.