By Rhonda Bartle

Though it looks a deceptively easy climb there have been many sensational rescues from the seaward side of Paritutu.  Living in a police house next to the Moturoa police station meant Constable Ray Petrowski was always there when the call came that someone needed help.

Born in Otaki, Petrowski grew up in Hawkes Bay.  Today, both his wife Win and daughter Val Byrne say his fitness and early bush craft skills gave him the ability to not only climb the rock but to bring stranded climbers down.  A deerstalker, Petrowski loved the outdoors and would later pass his knowledge on to young police cadets training in Wellington. 

Eight times between 1961 and 1978, Petrowski volunteered to perform a single-handed rescue.  Each time, from the police house at Moturoa, Win would scan Paritutu through binoculars to try to see what was going on.  Like many people who know the rock well, she calls it Paritoot. 

'Back in the 60s and 70s,' Win says, 'there was no such thing as walkie talkies or mobile phones to keep in touch. And Ray had no climbing equipment.  He'd just get his boots and off he went.'

 She admits she used to worry, 'up to a point.'

 'But I knew he wouldn't do anything silly. I did go up to the base once or twice, though I don't know how I got there.  There was no police car, and Ray would have taken ours. It was tense, just hoping everything would be all right.' 

What a comfort it must have been, for those awaiting rescue, to see Petrowski, six foot four and in hobnail boots, picking his way over the rocky ledges in his calm and careful fashion.

Val says her father had a way of making people feel they could rely on him.  When he reached whichever would-be climber had decided to tackle the cliff face from the seaward side only to find himself stuck, he would pretty much say 'let's pull up a rock and have a cigarette.'

Val recalls her father telling her how he calmed a climber down. 'He'd say 'Let's just sit here and get to know each other.  We'll sit and have a smoke.  Here.  Have a smoke, you relax and we'll go from there.'

He knew without that degree of trust, there was always the danger of a wayward climber 'freefalling' in panic.

'Dad would take a step and say, 'You grab hold of that bit of rock there.'  They'd say 'No, no, I can't.'  And he'd say, 'Yes you can.  I'll make sure you're all right.'  And there would be this little bit of movement. That's why it took so long.'

Most rescues meant Petrowski was on the rock for hours. All eight men brought down were seamen who had roamed round from the bay who thought they'd be able to climb the big rock easily. 

'Back then, the power station wasn't there, and they'd wander to the bottom of Paritutu and they'd go up three quarters of the way on the seaward side and wouldn't be able to continue,' Val says.

'Sometimes people coming in from fishing out in a boat would see them,' adds Win. 'I think once or twice there were two of them who set out together. One would get back and the other would still be up there. They'd say, 'look, we can't go down, we can't go up. The rocks would start falling and there'd be nothing to hold on to...'

Constable Ray Petrowski (far left) receives the Police Award for Bravery from President of the Taranaki Alpine Club, Mr D.H.Rawson, during a special ceremony in 1962.

They both know what an eerie feeling it must have been for rescuer and rescued, as they listened for those dislodged stones to hit a ledge or plunge into the water.  Yet neither Win nor Val were ever worried that Ray would not return.   As Val says, 'When you're younger, even though it's your dad, you think they're capable.' 

She was present at one night rescue. 'I remember being at the base of Paritutu and it was all around the seaward side and they were gone for ages - it was a long way for him to go.'

Val knows how  worried she should have been to have her father scrambling over a precipitous cliff face in the dark, with no equipment, just a torch in his bare hands.

'Just because you can see the torchlight, doesn't mean they're safe,' she says now.  'You know that they're safe at the moment, but that could change.'

These days when climbers are stranded on Paritutu, the specially trained Search and Rescue team must be called in.

An ever-lasting friendship grew out of one of Ray's rescues, when sailor John Rowe from Worchestershire, England, was safely led down, and stayed in touch with the Petrowski family for more than 40 years. 

'He was single when Ray rescued him,' says Win, 'but when we did our trip overseas, we stayed with him and his family and they took us all around.'

Now a retired container ship captain, John Rowe would always visit when he brought his ship into Port Taranaki.  Not very long ago, Win sent a newspaper photo of the rescue to him to show his grandchildren so they would believe his story of potential death and danger in a faraway land.

When Petrowski was awarded the British Empire Medal, Win, Val and sister Lynne travelled  to Government House in Auckland to watch it pinned on.  

Petrowski also earned the Royal Human Society's Bronze medal and several police commendations for his efforts.

Win Petrowski and her daughter Val Byrne look over rescue clippings and the medals Ray Petrowski earned.

When he died in May 2004 at the age of 87, plans were made to scatter his ashes from the summit of Paritoot, the rock he had come to know so well over the years. 

Granddaughters Nelita and Narelle will take them to the top, fulfilling their grandfather's last wish.  'We're hoping for a good day,' Val says.