The Wahine Shipwreck & New Zealand's Deadliest Storm

On the morning of 10 April 1968, as Cyclone Giselle lashes New Zealand, Ada Woolf is aboard the TEV Wahine as it approaches Wellington Harbour.

Her journey begins days earlier in Christchurch, sparked by a casual suggestion from a family friend, Mr Goodman. Within hours, her husband Les secures ferry tickets, and Ada finds herself preparing for a sudden trip north. The route will take her through Waiouru, allowing her to see all three of her daughters, something she welcomes eagerly. She travels with Mr Goodman and his companion, Mr Rutland, a well-known shipping enthusiast and Secretary of the Australian Ship Lovers Society.

Because of his reputation, Mr Rutland is invited to dine with the Wahine’s captain on the evening of 9 April. The captain speaks confidently about the ship, praising its radar systems and stabilisers, and insists that Mr Goodman and Ada join them for breakfast at the first sitting the following morning. That night, Ada settles into Cabin C 423, pleased to have the lower berth. She is surprised to discover her cabin mate is Sister Clarke, whom she knows from Christchurch Hospital. The two talk late into the night, unaware of what lies ahead.

By early morning, the ship is already rolling heavily. As Ada makes her way toward breakfast, she recalls the captain’s reassurances with quiet amusement, lurching along the corridors as the vessel pitches violently. In the dining room, stewards struggle to keep crockery on the tables as waves outside reportedly reach fifty to sixty feet. When Mr Rutland asks whether such weather is common, the answer is clear: it has never been this bad.

Moments later, everything changes. A heavy clunk is followed by a violent crunch. Food, plates, and glasses fly across the room as the ship shudders. Over the loudspeaker comes the order for passengers to return to their cabins and put on lifejackets immediately.

Ada complies and is directed to the cafeteria, where passengers crowd together as the ship continues to roll. Hours pass. Stewards circulate with soft drinks and snacks, doing what they can to keep people calm. Ada spends much of the morning with a young couple and their two-year-old son, Phillip, who is travelling to England to meet his grandmother. By midday, exhausted and overheated, many passengers remove their lifejackets. Ada does the same so she can help make a small bed for the child.

At regular intervals, announcements reassure everyone that the ship is drifting up Wellington Harbour, that there is no cause for alarm, and that they are perfectly safe. But Ada notices something has changed. The rolling has stopped. Instead, the Wahine has developed a list.

Another announcement follows, more urgent this time, ordering all passengers to put their lifejackets back on. Soon after, the ship lurches violently. Furniture and people begin sliding across the floor. Above the screaming comes the command to proceed to the starboard deck and assemble at the lifeboats, with women and children first.

Ada is among the last to leave the lounge. As she moves toward the exit, the ship heels sharply and throws her into a corner. Broken tables and chairs crash down on top of her, trapping her left leg. She is struck on the head and drifts in and out of consciousness. Somehow, she frees herself. Injured and dazed, she continues toward the deck, clutching her handbag tightly. Inside are her spectacles—without them, she cannot see.

On deck, she faces a terrifying descent along a surface sloping steeply toward the sea. She sits and slides, gripping the railings to slow herself, burning her hands as she goes. When she reaches the evacuation point, a crewman asks if she can jump. She agrees, but only if she can take her handbag.

She clasps it to her chest and jumps. The water feels unexpectedly soft after the chaos above. She turns onto her back and kicks away from the sinking ship. Her lifejacket has come loose, so she anchors it by placing her handbag on top and crossing her arms tightly. She floats there, drifting in and out of consciousness as the Wahine sinks behind her.

Eventually, two boys from the Worser Bay Lifesaving Club spot her and haul her into their small rescue boat. Still gripping her handbag, Ada is taken ashore, transferred to an ambulance, and rushed to Wellington Hospital.

At the hospital, she shivers uncontrollably despite the hot water bottles packed around her. Survivors fill every available space. Ada lies in a temporary ward, men on one side and women on the other, still in possession of her soaked handbag and spectacles. X-rays reveal a badly bruised and swollen knee but no broken bones, and she is deemed well enough to leave.

At the Union Steam Ship Company offices, she is asked whether she wishes to return to Christchurch by ship or by plane. She refuses the ship without hesitation. Arrangements are made for her to fly south, and because she can barely walk, she is driven to purchase a warm coat for the journey.

When Ada finally arrives in Sumner, Christchurch, she discovers her street is flooded and her husband has been evacuated. The cyclone has followed her south. The taxi driver radios for help, explaining he has a Wahine survivor with nowhere to go. Strangers step forward, offering shelter. That night, Ada lies in a bed and breakfast, wrapped in warmth, struggling to understand how she has travelled from shipwreck to safety in the space of a single day.

In the days that follow, the weight of survival settles heavily upon her. Many of the people she spoke with and shared the morning with are gone—Mr Goodman, Mr Rutland, her cabin mate Sister Clarke, and the little boy Phillip. The loss feels unbearable.

In time, Ada writes everything down in a long letter to her family, preserving not only her own survival, but the memory of those who do not live to tell their stories.

The Wahine Shipwreck & New Zealand’s Deadliest Storm today, on shipwrecks and sea dogs.

Hello and welcome to Shipwrecks and Sea Dogs, tales of mishaps, misfortune, and misadventure. In a recent episode, you heard the story of the RMS Niagara, which struck a German mine off the coast of New Zealand in 1940. During my research for that episode I came across the tragic story of the Wahine, another Union Line ship that met its fate in the waters of New Zealand.

The Wahine, was a Turbine Electric Vessel, giving it the name TEV Wahine. Its keel was laid down in 1965 at the Fairfield Shipbuilding & Engineering Company, of Gowan (GOH-unn), Scotland. She was built for the Union Steamship Company of New Zealand, and delivered to Greenock in June of 1966 for her fitting out. 

The Wahine was a roll-on/roll-off passenger ship, 440 feet in length, 71 feet in width, and powered by two turbine electric motors capable of producing speeds up to 21.7 knots, about 25 miles per hour, or 40 kilometers per hour.  The ship was designed with the particular requirements and conditions that she would encounter along this service route including weather conditions and depth of the channels. She was superbly constructed, and was issued a certificate of survey by the Board of Trade on the 17th of June, 1966. Surveyors from Lloyds Register of Shipping classified the Wahine as “Plus 100 A1 Ferry”, surpassing requirements in many respects, and the Marine Department of New Zealand deemed she met all requirements of the Shipping and Seamen Act of 1952.

The Wahine was outfitted with eight lifeboats to accommodate 694 people, and 30 inflatable liferafts which could carry 750 more. An additional four “buoyant apparatus” could take on 80 more people, and the vessel carried 18 lifebuoys and 1,224 lifejackets. In every way, the Wahine was a well-constructed ship, suited for its purpose, and equipped with adequate safety lifesaving equipment. 

Designed for the passenger ferry service between Lyttelton and Wellington, she had capacity for 1100 people for day trips, and accommodations for 924 berthed passengers for overnight trips, with cabins spread over 6 decks. It’s usual operations included 126 crew, which included officers, sailors, engineers, and over 60 stewards and staff to serve the guests. At the time of her completion, she was the largest vessel of her kind in the world. The cabins were simple but comfortable, and for entertainment and comfort, its public areas included a cafeteria, lounge, smoking room, gift shop, two enclosed promenades and open decks for strolling or lounging. 

In addition to passengers, the Wahine carried cargo including 200 vehicles, which could be driven into its two vehicle cargo decks, and then driven out at its destination. With the introduction of the Wahine into the fleet, Union was able to retire the aging vessels [RONGA-teera) Rangatira, built in 1930, and the [HIN-uh-MO-a Hinemoa, built in 1945.

Union Steamship put the Wahine into service on the first of August, 1966, joining with her counterpart ship, the Maori. Their typical schedule was six overnight trips between Wellington at the southern tip of New Zealand’s North Island, and Lyttelton, on the central east coast of South Island. Each ship operated opposite each other, so a ship was departing each port, 6 days a week. This route, branded the “Steamer Express” by the Union Line, is 174 nautical miles, and the Wahine usually made this trip in roughly 10 hours time. The first ferry service between Lyttelton and Wellington began in 1895, with the Union Steamship Company’s SS Penguin. 75 people tragically lost their lives when the Penguin sank in 1909 after striking a rock. The sinking of SS Penguin will undoubtedly be the topic of a future episode of Shipwrecks and Sea Dogs.

Between her maiden voyage and the end of 1966, the Wahine made 67 round trips across the Cook Strait between the islands. She continued to serve this route throughout 1967 and into 1968. 

In the evening of the 9th of April, 1968, the Wahine departed from Lyttelton, as usual, for an overnight crossing to Wellington, carrying 610 passengers and 123 crew, with Captain Hector Gordon Robertson in command. The estimated arrival of the Wahine in Wellington was 7:00 AM the following day, the 10th of April. Captain Robertson had received updated weather reports prior to departing Lyttelton, and while storms were predicted along the route, there was nothing to indicate anything other than the usual storms.

Going back to the 5th of April, a weak circulation of wind formed in the Coral Sea, near the Solomon Islands, almost 4,000 kilometers northwest of New Zealand. The following day, this disturbance was confirmed to be a tropical cyclone; what we would call a hurricane in Atlantic waters, or a typhoon in the northwest Pacific. Different names for the same destructive power. The New Zealand Meteorological Service issued its first update about the cyclone on the 6th of April, and continued to monitor the storm’s movement. On the morning of the 9th, it was believed the storm had weakened, but conditions were favorable for it to regenerate into a stronger storm of “unusual intensity.”

At 6:00 PM on the 9th, the cyclone, now named Cyclone Giselle, was 30 miles east of Cape [RENG-uh] Reinga, at the northwestern tip of New Zealand’s North Island, and moving southeast, still at 20 knots.  The Meteorological Service issued Navigation Warning 159 at 10:00 PM, stating:

Severe tropical depression centred 50 miles east of North Cape. Expected to pass close to North Coromandel - Auckland and through [TOW-po] Taupo Bay of Plenty area. By noon 10th will be in Hawke’s Bay area. Winds expected over 40 knots within 150 miles of centre and higher close to centre with heavy rain.

This warning was received by the Wahine via Auckland Radio.

Winds of 40 knots translates to 46 miles per hour, or 74 kilometers per hour. Winds this strong would create a horribly rough experience for large ships at sea. An important bit of information here is that the report indicated the storm would be over Hawke’s Bay by 10 am on the 10th. Hawke’s Bay is on the central-east coast of the North Island, over 300 kilometers northeast of Wellington. 

At 10:30 PM, a ZLW Radio broadcast issued another update, this time warning of winds of up to 60 knots within 100 miles of its center and “strong Northerlies changing to southerly after midnight tonight with southerly winds gradually increasing to gale or storm tomorrow morning.”

The Wahine received this weather warning as well, and was read by Captain Robertson. Despite the weather forecast, the Wahine departed Lyttleton shortly after, at 8:43 PM. While additional weather updates were issued by the Meteorological Service at 2 AM, 3AM, and 5:30 AM, none of them were received by the Wahine. This ship carried one radio officer, which was typical. For a ship of the Wahine’s class, a radio operator was required to be on radio watch from 8 AM to 10 AM, and 8 PM to 10 PM. Even so, the Wahine’s radio officer, Mr. R.J. Lyver, remained on duty until midnight, as there was a Japanese vessel in distress nearby. There was no dereliction of duty with regard to monitoring the radio.

At 5:00 AM, the Wahine was in the Cook Strait, with Chief Officer R.S. Luly on watch on the bridge. Conditions were rough, with 70 miles per hour winds howling. Radio Officer Lyver arrived at the bridge and contacted the Beacon Hill Station in Wellington Harbour on the ship’s VHF radio phone. He inquired about the conditions in the harbour, and was told the conditions were the same as in the strait, but a tug would be out to assist the Wahine into port.

Captain Robertson arrived on the bridge to take over at 5:30 AM. He could see the Baring Head Light 2.5 miles to port, and the lights of the ship ahead of him, confirming he was in the deepwater channel. At 5:50 AM, Robertson guided the Wahine into the Wellington harbour.

Just after 6 AM, wind gusts up to 90 miles per hour were detected high up on the cliffs at the Beacon Hill Station. Simultaneously, the rain intensified and visibility was reduced to less than a mile. No message was sent to the Wahine about the intensifying weather conditions.

Although the ship was very near to its destination, conditions became extremely dangerous. As the Wahine was nearing Pencarrow Head at the eastern entrance to the harbour, the ship was pitching and rolling badly in the steep, breaking seas. At 6:09, the Wahine was off-course, forcing Robertson to slow the ship to “Half-Ahead.” After passing Pencarrow Head to its starboard side, visibility became worse, and the heavy waves knocked out the ship’s radar.

The force of the wind and waves then pushed the Wahine, causing it to swing 30 degrees to port. The ship seemed to have a mind of its own, and was not responding to the helm. In an attempt to correct his course, Robertson ordered full astern on the starboard engine, and full head on the port engine. But before those commands could be executed, a massive rogue wave slammed into her port side, knocking the ship onto her starboard side. Captain Robertson was launched 75 degrees across the bridge and struck his head on the radar console.

The wave. Estimated to be as high as 45 feet, came on without warning in the dark and through the heavy rain. The Wahine rolled over to 47 degrees and was awash up to her boat deck, but somehow immediately righted herself.

Cyclone Giselle had slammed into Wellington from the north, with an unforeseen strength. But another system, a low pressure system from Antarctica, had raced up the western coast of South Island, and converged with Cyclone Giselle, just as Wahine was crossing the Cook Strait. 

Robertson gathered himself on the bridge. Visibility was now zero, as sheets of dark rain pounded down on them. The Wahine’s bridge was shaking and rattling from winds, now at 115 miles per hour. Positioned with its broadside facing the approaching waves, the Wahine was in a perilous position. Robertson fought for almost 30 minutes to point the bow into the waves, but could not gauge his position, or even confirm if the ship was responding. The ship’s only compass was a magnetic compass, which could not function properly while the ship was being tossed about so violently. Robertson was forced to shout to his lookouts, and ask for the ship’s position and bearing.

In fact, Robertson had successfully adjusted the ship’s course. In a fleeting moment of visibility, he suddenly saw the Barret Reef Light buoy. Fearing being caught in the buoy’s anchor cable, he ordered the engine room to give him full astern. Once again, the seas overpowered the ship and forced her broadside to the waves. Almost immediately, the Wahine was picked up and carried sideways onto Pinnacle Rock at the southern end of Barret Reef, a series of jagged rocks in the center of the harbor entrance. Her starboard propeller and rudder were destroyed, and water poured through its double hull up to the main vehicle deck, also knocking out all propulsion.

Alarm bells blasted throughout the ship, and crew members scrambled to muster passengers to lifeboat stations. Meanwhile, the Wahine was being blown north up the shore of Barret Reef, with jagged rocks tearing into the ship. Captain Robertson ordered both anchors released to prevent further damage.

For several hours, the helpless ship drifted north toward Point Dorset, dragging its anchors. Despite being close to shore, the wind, rain, and waves were relentless and prevented any land-based rescue efforts. The Tug [tap-OO-hee] Tapuhi finally reached the Wahine at 11:00 AM and after much effort finally attached a towline, and an attempt was made to tow the ship to safety. But the towline almost immediately snapped, and additional efforts to attach a towline failed.

The Deputy Harbourmaster at Wellington, Captain Galloway, then risked his life by bravely leaping from a heavily pitching pilot launch to a hanging ladder on the Wahine, and managed to climb aboard.

At 1:15 PM, the Wahine was listing badly to starboard, but the storm had swung the ship back around, protecting the starboard side from the wind and waves. Finally, the order to abandon ship was given, 

Because of the severe list, only the 4 starboard side boats could be launched. One of them was swamped immediately, and all of its occupants were tossed into the cold water. The other three lifeboats made it across the harbour to safety. But the lifeboats did not have space for everyone, and many passengers and crew were left on board. They were forced to jump into the frigid, violent sea and fight for their lives. Some were fortunate enough to grasp hold of an inflatable life raft, but many of those ended up damaged or overturned.

Most of the survivors in the water were blown toward [East-born] Eastbourne, while others were picked up by the ferry Aramoana. 200 survivors ended up reaching the shores of Eastbourne, but 51 of them ultimately perished. Some were killed when they were thrown onto the rocks, and others later died of exposure. Rescue teams trying to reach Eastbourne were delayed due to the roads being blocked by a slip, also known as a landslide. The winds, which were clocked as high as 171 miles per hour, blew three ambulances and a truck on their sides as they were trying to reach the area.

Captain Robertson and Captain Galloway were the last to leave the ship, when they jumped off the Wahine’s stern into the water. After an hour in the water, Captain Robertson faded in and out of consciousness until both men were finally picked up by a rescue vessel, one of many that had arrived on the scene. 

At 2:30 PM, the Wahine was in its death throes, and it capsized in about 12 meters of water, near the Steeple Rock Light. 

In the aftermath of this shocking event, Captain H.G. Robertson and his Chief Officer were charged with negligence, under the New Zealand Shipping and Seamen Act of 1952. On the 1st of August, 1968 after 24 days of testimony and presentation of evidence, the Court found both men not-guilty of the charges of negligence, stressing the difficult and dangerous conditions being the primary cause of the accident and 51 deaths. The court did note, however, several failures and errors of judgment.

Union Steamship Company kept Captain Robertson on, but gave him command of the less-desirable freighter [KOH-fye] Kowhai. Robertson later discovered that the two retired master mariners serving on the court, to assist the magistrate, made damning statements about Robertson, and placed the blame for the loss of the Wahine entirely on his shoulders. He felt betrayed by two men who he fully expected to support him, being fellow masters. He couldn’t help but notice that neither of these men had ever commanded a merchant ship in the Cook Strait trade. 

It should be pointed out that other than the obvious severe weather, a number of factors contributed to the loss of the Wahine. Prompt and accurate weather forecasts may have made Robertson change his mind about entering the Cook Strait. Even when entering the harbour, the Beacon Hill Station failed to provide an update about the sudden violent increase in windspeed.  The ship’s magnetic compass was also useless in the rough seas due to the severe pitching and rolling. Had the ship been fitted with a gyrocompass, Robertson would have had a more reliable indication of his course. The Wahine also did not have a back-up radar system, causing Robertson to be virtually blind when the ship’s radar was knocked out.

Robertson suffered under the crushing weight of guilt, as well as heart attacks in 1971 and 1972. He died on the 4th of December, 1972, at the age of 62.

The Union Line originally planned to salvage the wreck, but those plans were abandoned upon learning of the ship’s extensive structural damage. But the wreck was located in a busy shipping channel and was a navigational hazard, and had to be removed. Union made plans to refloat her and tow her into the Strait to be scuttled, but another intense storm struck the area in 1969, and broke up the wreck into three pieces. 

United Salvage of Melbourne spent five years cutting up the remains of the wreck, and lifting the pieces up and ashore using the floating crane Hikitia. The ship’s funnel, mast, boilers and propeller were all removed, in what became United Salvage’s longest job. 

Today, the only pieces of her that remain were made into memorials or are located in museums. Her anchor and chain are at Churchill Park in [SEE-toon] Seatoun, along with a memorial plaque; her mast is at Frank Kitts Park on the Wellington waterfront, adjacent to a memorial wall with a plaque remembering the Wahine disaster, and many other military and maritime disasters. Other miscellaneous sections of the Wahine can be found in museums around Wellington.

Lastly, the account of Ada Woolf that you heard at the top of this episode was based on her original 26 page letter, written on the 19th of April, 1968, just 9 days after surviving the loss of the ship. Her daughter donated the letter to the Alexander Turnbull Library, and can be viewed today at the Katherine Mansfield Reading Room in Wellington.