Echoes of tragedy across the range

Gerry Morris at the mass grave where 33 victims of the Brunner disaster of 1896 are buried. Photo / Mark Mitchell

About 20km from Pike River Coal's mine is an old graveyard.

Among the ageing headstones with their hard-to-read inscriptions, the middle of Stillwater Cemetery holds a surprise for those not from the coal-mining town of Greymouth down the road.

There is a mass grave in this little cemetery.

It has a cenotaph with a list of names and ages carved on it, and written there is a simple yet haunting inscription.

It reads: "Dedicated to the memory of 65 miners who lost their lives by an explosion in the Brunner Mine, March 26, 1896.

"Thirty-three are buried here. Erected by the affectionate relatives and friends."

One of the dead listed was just 15, one was 72.

The terrible thing, said former mining journalist Gerry Morris, who grew up in Greymouth in a mining family, "is you must respect history but this is history repeated".

"The parallel here is that both these mines are on the eastern side of the Paparoa Range, which is largely one huge block of coal.

"In effect it's the same geological conditions, same gas issues for both mines."

At the cenotaph, Morris tries to explain his feelings about the latest blast, which has left the lives of 29 men hanging in the balance - though he believes they are dead.

The explosion is close to home for Morris.

One of his relatives works at Pike River and was almost caught up in the explosion, leaving the mine only minutes before.

Asked how he can explain to outsiders why they still go down in the mines risking their lives, he replied that generations of families have been working the West Coast mines.

"It's in their blood to do it."

On the other side of the picturesque Grey River, which winds its way around lush hills that belie the tragedies in this part of the country, is the site of Friday's explosion.

The whole of the Brunner mine site is a memorial now and plaques explain the history.

One tells how European explorer Thomas Brunner, guided by Ngai Tahu in waka, spotted the thick black coal seam in 1848.

"Little did he know that Brunner would become one of New Zealand's most significant coal mines.

"It was New Zealand's most productive 19th century coal mine, it's the site of the country's worst mining disaster and its archaeological remains offer an outstanding example of our nation's heritage."

Another plaque, on a wooden platform with a statue of a giant West Coast coal miner with a beard and hat and holding a coal shovel, gives a little more information. The disaster occurred about 9.30am on a Thursday.

A royal commission found the initial explosion was caused by a blown-out shot (gelignite in a tube was set off to blow the coal into pieces) in the dip section with abundant dust lying on the roads.

A series of coal-dust explosions intensified and quickly swept through a large part of the workings.

"All 65 men and boys working underground lost their lives."

Said Morris: "You know, you've got 30 people, half as many as died [in Brunner], 104 years later, 20km away."