- Stephanie Browitt, 29, was exploring the White Island volcano with her family when it erupted
- Heartbreakingly the eruption took the lives of her father, Paul and sister, Krystal
- Left fighting for her life, Stephanie survived against the odds
Here Stephanie tells her story in her own words.
As pink clouds filled the sky, I was excited as our cruise ship sailed out of Sydney Harbour.
It was December 2019, and my parents, Marie, then 54, and Paul, 55, my sister Krystal, 21, and I had flown from our home in Melbourne to board Royal Caribbean’s Ovation of the Seas ship, headed for New Zealand.
We were celebrating Krystal’s 21st birthday and my graduation from the Howard Fine Acting Studio.
On our fifth day, we’d booked in to do a guided tour to the White Island volcano, known locally as Whakaari, after docking at Tauranga.
With multiple sclerosis, Mum’s mobility was impacted, so she wasn’t able to come along, but Dad, Krystal, and I were excited for the day trip.
‘Love you. Be safe,’ Mum said, waving us off.
Disembarking the ship, we boarded a tour bus to Whakatane, then boarded a small boat which took us to the island.
There, our guides Hayden and Tipene handed out safety equipment to our group of 38, including life jackets, gas masks, and a hard hat, in case of falling rocks.
We were warned to stick to the narrow rocky track and about hissing fumaroles – openings that release volcanic gas up to 800 degrees. But Hayden’s last statement made my heart pound.
‘The volcano is at a level 2,’ he said.
Level 3 was an eruption.
‘We will have to do this tour a little faster than usual,’ he added.
READ MORE: White Island volcano survivor speaks out about losing her fingers
Why didn’t someone say something before? I wondered, feeling anxious. Surely they wouldn’t allow us here if it wasn’t safe?
In the 30 minutes it took to complete a loop around the volcano, a layer of ash covered my shoes and a sulphuric smell, like boiled eggs, wafted in the air.
Then Dad peered behind us and saw a big black cloud rising from the crater.
‘Krystal! Look! Take a picture,’ he said excitedly.
Then a spine-chilling scream came from one of the guides in front – ‘Run!’
We bolted in the direction of the jetty, as a deafening screech bellowed from the volcano.
But still within the towering crater walls, I was swallowed by a wave of rocks.
The pressure felt like I’d been hit by a truck as I was tossed around like a rag doll.
Trying to call out for Dad and Krystal, I couldn’t get the words out.
Every breath was suffocating, as ash and steam scorched my lungs, burning me from the inside.
Coming to a stop in the rocky terrain, I gasped for air as the toxic gases began to clear.
As an eerie silence fell over the island, I opened my eyes to find everything was covered in a thick blanket of ash.
READ MORE: White Island volcano survivor: ‘We ran for our lives’
I tried desperately to get up, but my legs buckled and I fell to a heap next to other injured tourists, who were crying in agony. Scanning faces for Dad and Krystal, I only found strangers.
As the sun bore down, I realised I’d been badly burned too. My nails were sliding off my ravaged fingers, that looked like they were melting.
As reality sunk in, I rolled on the ground to try to relieve the pain. But the heat from the earth was so intense, it felt like I was on a sizzling hot plate.
Is this how I die? I wondered, as my thoughts turned to Mum. She needs me. I can’t leave her.
Then, I heard Dad’s voice pierce through the silence, calling my name.
I couldn’t see him, but was grateful to know he was alive.
I couldn’t hear Krystal, but hoped she was alive too.
Help will arrive any minute. Hold on, I told myself.
It was over an hour later when I heard the whirring of a helicopter.
‘You’re okay,’ the rescuer, Mark, soothed, helping me into the front seat of a chopper.
Dad, Krystal and two others were in the backseat.
The 20-minute flight to land was hell, but I fought to stay awake.
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Taken to Whakatane Hospital, I was placed in an induced coma.
Two weeks later, I woke in The Alfred hospital in Melbourne, with Mum by my bedside.
‘You’re okay, my darling,’ she sobbed.
Wrapped tightly in bandages, I felt like I was paralysed.
Doctors explained I’d suffered burns to 70 per cent of my body, including my face, arms, legs and back.
‘It’s a miracle you survived,’ they said.
Poor Mum had heard of the horror when an announcement was made on the ship.
Unable to speak, I was relieved when Mum assured me Dad and Krystal were okay.
Mum was my pillar of strength as I faced daily debridement treatments to remove dead skin, then several skin grafts.
Eight of my fingers were so badly damaged they needed to be amputated.
The days and weeks blurred as I worked with a therapists to relearn how to talk, walk and eat. But I persevered, determined to heal and reunite with Dad and Krystal.
Then three weeks after the ordeal, Mum had gut-wrenching news.
‘Krystal didn’t make it,’ she said gently, confessing my sister passed away from her injuries on the day of the eruption.
I never got to say goodbye.
Mum had kept the truth from me to shield me from the pain, so I wouldn’t give up.
Then just a few days later, Dad lost his battle too. Heartbroken, I fell into a deep depression.
It was unfathomable.
We’d gone on holidays to celebrate, but half my precious family had been killed on a cruise excursion.
Mum urged me not to give up. Knowing I was all she had, I clung on.
I knew I had to fight for Dad and Krystal.
Transferred to a rehabilitation centre in March, I focused on rebuilding muscle, stretching my skin and getting movement back into my stiff limbs.
Then in May, five months after the eruption, I was discharged, with head-to-toe compression bandages to help aid healing and scar recovery.
I wore them for 23 hours a day for almost three years, before removing my mask for the first time during an interview with 60 Minutes.
My face looked so different, but parts of my old self were shining through the scars.
I later learned that my rescuer, helicopter pilot Mark Law, along with two other pilots, Jason Hill and Tom Storey, had been the first responders, rushing to our aid after seeing the volcano erupt from the mainland.
Devastatingly, of the 47 people on the island that day, 22 died, including 17 Australians.
The remaining people on the island were all injured, most seriously.
Then in September 2024, after a gruelling many-years-long legal battle with Royal Caribbean, who we felt had acted negligently in selling us tickets to the island, we reached a private settlement.
Now seven years on from the ordeal, Mum and I talk to Dad and Krystal every day, and live in a way we hope makes them proud.
We celebrate their birthdays with a cupcake and candle, and sign their name on every card.
Still learning to live with my injuries, I have ongoing laser treatments and physio on my hands, and will need to undergo further surgeries.
My scars are a symbol of my survival.
After charges were filed by Worksafe NZ, in March 2024 at Auckland District Court, Judge Evangelos Thomas sentenced five parties found guilty, including Whakaari Management Limited, the company held by White Island’s owners, the Buttle family.
The others included White Island Tours, as well as helicopter tour companies Aerius Limited, Kahu NZ Limited, and Volcanic Air Safaris.
Judge Thomas said they had all ‘used an active volcano to make money.’
He ordered $NZ10.21 million in reparation be paid to families of those killed and the survivors.NZ’s volcano monitor GNS Science was also fined $54,000. Inflite Charters was fined $227,500.
Following an appeal, in February 2025, New Zealand’s High Court overturned a 2023 decision, quashing the conviction and ruling the owners of Whakaari were not responsible for the deadly outcome of the eruption.
Justice Simon Moore decided that owning the land did not necessarily transfer workplace safety responsibilities, instead blaming multiple systemic failures.
Stephanie and Marie’s book ‘Out of the Ashes’ is available for purchase on Amazon.
