Back in Wellington - Assistant Supervising Ranger - 1974-1976

I returned to Wellington in 1974, stepping into a new role as Assistant Supervising Ranger, once again working under John Mazey—although I actually arrived before him, and he came on later. My role was essentially that of a deputy: the link between the bureaucracy and the field staff. Much of my time was spent visiting parks, reserves, and maritime areas, connecting with rangers and teams wherever the need arose.

The work was wide-ranging—covering park and protected area management, field operations, finance and resource planning, staff recruitment, and general administration. But at its heart, it was about bridging the gap between head office and the people on the ground. I was on the road a lot, and that suited me perfectly. I was very much a field person, bringing the realities of the outdoors into head office programs.

Sitting at a desk in the city never suited me. I became known for what people jokingly called “The Bruce In-Tray System.” When my in-tray filled up and I was itching to get back into the field, I would simply move the whole pile into the out-tray. The mail staff would dutifully collect it, take it to the sorting room, and eventually return it all to me a couple of days later. In the meantime, my desk was blissfully clear—a small act of rebellion against the tyranny of paperwork.

Being out in the field, working with other rangers across the country, was a joy. With all the travel, my wife Margaret used to say I was never home. Once, walking through the airport en route to the South Island with skis and ice axe in hand, I ran into Bing Lucas. “Hi Bing—just off to see the field staff!” I called out.

Vision and Change

Bing Lucas was a true visionary. He often reminded us that the vision for our parks was already embodied in the legislation—something too easily forgotten. The National Parks Act set out the values and purposes of the system, and Bing upheld those foundations while also introducing new ideas and fresh energy.

He championed the concept of farm parks—a mix of working farms and recreational spaces with tracks, interpretation, and camping opportunities. He also drove the creation of the Otago Goldfields Park, a network of heritage sites that told the story of the region’s gold mining history. These initiatives were new territory for the department, sitting outside the traditional National Parks framework. Bing remained loyal to the National Parks Act, but he also saw room for innovation in how New Zealanders experienced their landscapes.

Hiring Rangers and Building Teams

One of my main responsibilities was recruiting new rangers across the country. We regularly advertised for positions in Reserves, National Parks, and as Relieving Rangers—those last ones being two-year appointments.

The department was fairly lean, but that wasn’t a bad thing. It made us resourceful. We were also growing rapidly, with new ranger positions being created as the system expanded. I handled much of the recruitment process—screening applicants, preparing shortlists for John Mazey and the directors, setting up interviews, and often sitting on the panels myself.

We were reasonably well-resourced, and under Bing’s leadership, the department had strong direction. He was deeply experienced, forward-thinking, and some of his writing was ahead of its time.

One particularly memorable appointment was for the ranger position on Kapiti Island. At the time, the Maritime Department’s Lighthouse Service was encouraging us to employ lighthouse keepers whose stations were being automated. I was processing applications for positions on the Whanganui River, in Fiordland, and on Kapiti Island. Two applicants came from one of the most remote places in New Zealand—Puysegur Point, at the far southwest corner of Fiordland.

After some discussion, it was clear that taking two people from a three-man lighthouse crew was impractical. So, I flew down to Preservation Inlet to interview them myself and return with a recommendation. Neither applicant proved suitable, but while waiting for my floatplane, I caught up with Peter Daniel—a lighthouse keeper I knew from tramping days in the Tararuas. Casually, he mentioned he might be interested in a ranger’s job one day. I told him, “If you’re serious, apply sooner rather than later—new appointments are getting tighter.”

By the time I made it back to Wellington, there was already a telex from Peter requesting permission to submit a late application. After briefing head office and the Commissioner of Crown Lands, I recommended him for the Kapiti Island position. Fortunately, my recommendation carried some weight—Peter got the job and went on to serve as Ranger in Charge of Kapiti Island Nature Reserve for about 22 years.

Training, Field Trips, and Inspections

Another part of my role was helping to arrange the new block courses at Lincoln University. While Bing and John Mazey led the negotiations, I was closely involved in shaping the curriculum and practical details. This meant many meetings with Dr. Pat Devlin and other senior Lincoln staff.

The aim was to develop a course that balanced academic rigour with practical application—something that reflected the realities of park and reserve work. The result was a consistent national training framework that led to what became the Diploma in Parks and Recreation.

Because my role linked head office with the field, I scheduled regular trips and inspections. Spending time with staff in their parks was invaluable—it helped me understand their strengths and identify where extra support or development might be needed.

One particularly memorable trip was arranged with the Southland District Office, using the Fiordland National Park vessel Renown, skippered by John Ward. We camped aboard for several nights in Port Pegasus/Pikihatiti, a vast, sheltered harbour on the southeast coast of Stewart Island. We climbed up to the granite peaks of Gog and Magog, explored the inlets and rivers, and I remember thinking, 'I can’t believe I get paid for this.'

Our party included the Chief Surveyor, the Assistant Commissioner of Lands & Survey, John Ward, and myself. The Assistant Commissioner was very much a desk man—not exactly at home outdoors. One vivid memory from that trip was watching him attempt to step into a small dinghy. There was only the slightest swell, but as he placed his foot on the gunwale, the dinghy flipped—tipping everyone and everything into the water. As he surfaced, spluttering, I had to resist the overwhelming urge to plant my foot on his head. Fortunately for my career, I didn’t.

The Urewera Trek and Reflections

One of the real highlights of that period was the Urewera National Park inspection—done by horseback. The Urewera is a land of deep green forests, misty valleys, and ancient ridges. The air is full of the calls of tui and kererū, and the forest floor is soft with moss and ferns beneath towering podocarps. Streams tumble through the valleys, and every bend reveals another view—a blue lake, a sunlit clearing, or the dark, mysterious heart of the bush.

We rode out with Alf Ure, Sonny Biddle, BJ, Don Bell, Arthur Taylor, and a few others whose names I can’t recall. My horse, Lofty, was sure-footed and steady. The days were long but full of good company, crisp air, and laughter. The Urewera has a way of getting under your skin—it’s one of the wild hearts of the North Island.

Another person who left a strong impression on me was George Lyon, Chief Ranger at Nelson Lakes National Park. Walking with George was like taking a masterclass in practical park management—he was innovative, resourceful, and widely respected.

Looking back, those years as Assistant Supervising Ranger were some of the most rewarding of my career. The challenges were constant, but so were the opportunities—to shape the future of our parks, to work with dedicated people, and to spend time in some of the most beautiful places in New Zealand.