Open Writing

The last time I visited Kelly Tarlton's Underwater World was over 15 years ago, when I took my Aunt Freda, and her sister, Ivy, there for a visit. They were staying with us for a few days enroute from Perth to Europe for a back-packing holiday. This was the second one they had done together. Carrying everything on their backs, including cooking gear and wearing Aussie bush hats, and taking only one change of clothes, they were a colourful and courageous pair.

I drove them to Kelly Tarlton's, and we went downstairs to see the exhibits, and enjoy the experience of feeling we were under the sea by going through the acrylic tunnels, where fish and sharks were able to swim above and all around us. The big stingrays were impressive. Going through the tunnels we could either stand on a moving platform, or walk on a path beside it. We did both, and were amazed at the work that Kelly Tarlton and all involved had achieved to make this underwater fantasy real, the first of its kind in the world, using the disused sewers of Auckland's waterfront.

Sadly, Kelly Tarlton, inventor, visionary, and diver, died unexpectedly of a heart attack at 47 years of age, just two months after the tunnels opened and on the same day that he had welcomed the 100,000th visitor to the underwater world.

After we had seen everything we decided to take the lift up to the ground floor. We had noticed that the lift had a notice at the top that it wouldn't operate unless both doors were closed, top and bottom. We got in, closed the door, pressed the button and nothing happened. We guessed that the door was open at the top, and it wouldn't take long for somebody to decide to take the lift down, and get in the lift and close the door.

After a minute or two, we decided to open the door and take the stairs. Imagine our surprise when the door refused to open. There was a small glass window about eye level, with safety wire through it. We wondered how long it would take before somebody decided to use the lift. There weren't that many people there that day, and most seemed to prefer to come down the stairs, and not use the lift.

We discussed pushing the emergency button, although we were reluctant to draw attention to ourselves. But I decided that was what the bell was there for, so I pushed it, a long push. We waited. Nothing happened, nobody appeared. I was glad we were able to see out of the window, and thought we would really feel threatened if we were trapped between floors. I tried again. Again no response. We could hear the bell sounding in the distance, where there were people. Why were they ignoring it, we couldn't imagine. I could see my aunt was starting to feel a bit panicky, so I suggested that she and her sister sit on the floor, and I would keep buzzing. 'I must not panic,' I told myself firmly.

I started trying to press out SOS with the button. This should bring somebody, I thought. But no! Then I took off my shoe, and started banging on the glass window with it. Still nothing. I could see people walking past, but going away from us, as they were on their way downstairs. They obviously couldn't hear my banging. Then a woman came along walking toward us. I waved and made beckoning movements. Luckily she came over to the window. 'The lift's stuck,' I screamed.

'I'll get help, don't worry,' she said.

After at least 20 minutes we were rescued. We were all shaken.

'Why did you ignore the emergency bell?' I enquired of the staff who let us out.

'Oh, we thought it was the workmen here,' she said.

'We've been in that lift at least 20 minutes,' I said.

'We're very sorry,' she said.

At this we left, via the stairs, thinking they could at least have offered us a cup of tea, and made our way to a cafe down the road for a well-deserved cup of tea. I vowed I'd never go there again.

But yesterday, I did, because I wanted to see the penguins, which had come since I'd been there. And also Scott's hut. This time I was stuck on the stairs for 20 minutes amongst people queuing to get in, because of the school holidays.

© Shirley Henwood

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Shirley writes for Bonzer! magazine. Please visit www.bonzer.org.au