The grumblings from Tim Whittaker's stomach were louder than explosions coming from Mt Ruapehu as the sun went down on September 27, 1995.
The day before, the volcano had erupted in spectacular fashion, sending skiers fleeing and the world's media into a spin. James Morgan, editor of Hawkes Bay's Herald-Tribune,
handed Whittaker the keys to his car and told the photographer to come home with the shot everyone wanted.
"I thought that was the most dumb idea," said Whittaker. "It had taken something like 20 years to erupt. It wasn't going to go the next day just because I turned up."
Whittaker set up camp on the golf course below the Chateau before dawn and spent a long, cold day waiting for the mountain to blow again. Occasionally, small puffs of ash would bubble out of the crater, then disperse.
"I sat there like the man on the Kit Kat ad, waiting for the panda to come out."
As the sun set, Whittaker decided to head across the road to the tavern for a pie but, just as he was loading his tripod and camera gear into the car, a plume of ash rose into the air, growing bigger and bigger.
Whittaker lunged for his camera and "blazed away". He never thought of fleeing. "I'd been waiting all day for the bloody thing."
After the photograph appeared, Whittaker received an email from an irate geologist who accused him of doctoring the shot, insisting the eruption could never look like this because the mountain's crater lay to the right of the shot.
What the geologist didn't realise was the dark mass in the middle of the photograph was ash falling not exploding up.
"There was a westerly blowing. It took four or five minutes for it to drift across to the centre to make the shot look more balanced - then I took the shot."
Whittaker said it was a fluke he happened to be in the best position to get the picture.
He has since moved away from news photography - he grew tired of chasing bad news - but Mt Ruapehu still holds an allure.
"If it went up again, I'd be out the door."
