Alexandra family wants answers after daughter's death

Otago Daily Times

13-07-2025

By Katie Todd of RNZ
She knew the ocean better than most, but the mountains were unfamiliar territory. After 26-year-old marine biologist Wednesday Davis died on Mt Ruapehu last year, family and friends say they endured months without an explanation. A year on, they're still desperate to find out how she ended up climbing in dangerous conditions she was not prepared for. Katie Todd reports.
Wednesday Davis was a fastidious planner.
She was always up for trying something new - but did her research first, according to family and close friends.
Her father Paul Davis and stepmother Sarah Hall said she filled boxes with certificates, scrupulously labelled with yellow Post-it notes.
"She'd done the coastguard course to drive the boat. The four-wheel-drive courses to drive the four-wheel-drive. Health and safety courses for when she'd take school groups to [her former workplace] Experience Marine Reserves," Davis said.
"She'd always prepare. She was always prepared. Her diving logbook is meticulously filled out with her hours in the water, her oxygen levels," Hall said.
So a year ago, they did not have any reason to worry when Wednesday Davis told them about her Matariki weekend plans - a group trip up Mt Ruapehu.
The adventure was a way to celebrate a few collective birthdays among a group of extended friends ranging from skilled mountaineers to alpine novices.
She was in the latter category, having barely ventured into the mountains, her father said.
The group planned to stay at a lodge on Tukino Skifield, have a few drinks and explore the nearby terrain.
On the first clear, still night, his daughter sent him a Facebook message with a photo of a group walking in the winter light.
Then came a shot of her feet in crampons, with the caption: "First time in crampons #didntfalloffthemountain".
It was the last message she sent her father, before she died the following day. Bad signs from an icy blue mountain
Davis and Hall — who live in the Central Otago town of Alexandra — were summoned to Taupō to identify her body.
In the hours that followed, they knew only she had fallen to her death and assumed officials would fill in the rest.
"Tragedy creates so much chaos at the start," Hall said.
"We had to go up north, organise flights, get bags packed — so you're not thinking about what's happening. You kind of assume that everyone's doing their job in the background."
The pair were deeply moved when local iwi Ngāti Tūwharetoa watched over Wednesday's body the first night she was brought off the mountain.
It was also iwi members who gave the first hint of what might have gone wrong.
"They said the mountain that day was blue," Davis recalled.
"They hadn't seen it like that for a while. It's a bad sign when it's blue - basically, solid ice. Even the experts would struggle."
In the days that followed, he began trying to piece together his daughter's final moments.
Using location data from photos on her phone and flight tracking records linked to the rescue helicopter, he narrowed down an area where he believed she likely fell on the mountain - near Whangaehu Hut, the highest alpine hut in New Zealand.
The Department of Conservation website described the access route as off track, challenging, exposed and "only suitable for expert, well-equipped hikers with alpine experience".
Hall said they began scouring online footage of the trail.
"Watching the YouTube footage, you're thinking, 'oh my God'," she said.
"This is pretty advanced. It's steep and, in winter, it's icy up there. This isn't the 42 Traverse. This isn't the Tongariro Crossing. This is something quite extreme."
Davis said a photo on his daughter's phone taken the morning of the accident suggested members of the group were not wearing many layers or carrying much gear.
The more they saw, the more questions they had, Hall said.
"I just don't understand why a novice was on the mountain that day," she said. Months in the dark
Months passed and there was still no official explanation as to how Wednesday Davis had died, beyond what Davis and Hall had come to understand themselves.
The couple began reaching out to anyone they could - police contacts, her friends, experienced mountaineers and others on social media to try to learn more about the hours leading up to the accident.
Hall and Davis said Wednesday's boyfriend Guy Pryor was on the trip, but they still do not know exactly who else was.
He would not speak to them about what happened and declined to comment out of respect for the coronial investigation.
"Through social media and two degrees of separation in New Zealand we found out [the group] weren't actually well known to each other," Davis said.
"This was an advanced walk... what were they doing out there with other strangers?"
Hall said they discovered there was a police report into the death, but it was sealed at the coroner's office.
"I remember thinking 'we're not privy to that information? It's still going to wait?' It was quite a frustrating process," she said.
Finally, seven months after losing his daughter, Davis received a copy of the confidential report which made for a confronting read.
It was filled with detailed information about the emergency service response and witness interviews from other people on the mountain, as well as maps, diagrams and descriptions, all of which would feed into an eventual coroner's report.
Hall and Davis finally learnt how the accident played out and the technicality of emergency response.
It was followed more recently by another also confidential Mountain Safety Council report.
In a written response to RNZ, council chief executive Mike Daisley explained its reports do not generally offer any new evidence.
"With our expert knowledge of outdoor safety, we are typically asked by coroners to provide an independent report as part of their investigation into a fatality," he said.
"Our intent is to support the coronial process with an independent and expert analysis of the evidence, which is provided to us by the coroner."
Hall said the official findings only led to more questions.
Davis said they still did not know exactly who else was on the trip beside his daughter and Pryor, or why the group set out in icy winter weather.
Meanwhile, a GoPro they believed Wednesday was wearing when she fell - which could have held answers - had never been recovered.
"The last page of the police report said it was an accident. There would be no further investigation [beyond the coroner's investigation]. I almost didn't want to read it," he said.
"I thought there was still mystery. So many things that we wanted to know," Hall said.
"I'd like to know why did they wake up that morning and go 'right, let's go to this random hut'. What made them think to go up there?" A vast legal canyon
Wednesday Davis's family's last hope for more answers lies in the coronial process.
Hall said if the accident had not happened on a private trip on a mountain there might have been more opportunities for inquiry.
"If it was a paid trip, WorkSafe would have come in. If it happened on a road, it's an NZTA issue. If it happened paragliding, it's the Civil Aviation Authority," Davis said.
"If it happened on a river, or a boat, it's maritime law, but mountain law - there is no law, in a social situation. There's a huge, vast, legal canyon," Hall added.
University of Otago law expert Associate Professor Simon Connell said there was extremely limited scope for inquiry when someone died during a private recreational trip on public land because they were covered by the ACC scheme that ruled out claims for fault.
The coronial process was forward-looking, aimed at learning lessons, he said.
"It's about trying to understand what happened and part of that is identifying which things perhaps could have been done differently to prevent something like that happening again," Connell said.
"It can be dissatisfying for someone wanting a finding of fault, but it does seriously consider whether a death could have been avoided and how to reduce the risk in future."
Hall said it was frustrating not knowing if the coroner's report was months or even years away.
"Maybe more answers will come, but I would like to say that if anyone was on the mountain that day and they would like to reach out to any of the family members, they are more than welcome to do so," she said.
A Coroner's Court spokesperson said every death was different and the scope of the investigation depended on the evidence.
"Inquiries can vary in length and take up to several years where a full inquiry is required," they said in a statement.
"The time it takes depends on the complexity of how the person died, the evidence the coroner needs to gather and whether the coroner is waiting for a prosecution or any other investigation to finish. We endeavour to provide families and whānau with updates on the inquiry into their loved one's death as they become available, and information from case files when it is requested and is appropriate to do so. Our sincere condolences are with Wednesday's family." Remembering Wednesday Davis
Wednesday Davis's loved ones said her death was "an almighty loss".
One year on, they were remembering not only a talented marine biologist, ocean advocate, science communicator and marine educator but also a loved daughter and friend.
Wednesday - known to her family as Clem - had a unique ability to speak to anyone, Davis said.
"Our youngest, she's a quiet, introverted kid and Clem could just pull her out of her shell and get her talking," he said.
As well as her work advocating for marine mammals, she quietly championed women's rights and equality in a way that could open your eyes, he said.
"She kind of walked the talk in a way. She was just a really inclusive person," Davis said.
Sacha Baillie worked at Auckland Zoo when Davis worked at Kelly Tarlton's and recalled how the two would send each other little animal and marine earrings.
"She had a magnetic personality. She was just so much, all of the time, in such a cool way," she said.
Davis was also one of the most stubborn people she had ever met, Baillie said.
"She would always be helping someone with something or volunteering. We would kind of encourage her to take a moment for herself and she'd go 'yes, yes, yes', and then she wouldn't do it - she'd be helping someone else, with something else," Baillie said.
Keziah D'Souza completed her master's thesis alongside Davis and said her friend brought light to the hardest moments of their studies.
She fondly recalled her buying "horrendous" green V energy socks for all of her study group.
"She was truly a voice for te moana and she cared so much, but she was also unhinged at times and so silly," D'Souza said.
"Much like the ocean, she had a lot of depths to her. It's a big loss to marine science but it's just a big loss to her family and friends in general."
Davis's former university lab mate Lucy Kelly said her "voracious texting" filled her phone.
Her many professional accomplishments had been publicised after her death but not her chronic back pain, queerness or ADHD, Kelly said.
"Not everything came to her easily, which makes her professional life all the more impressive," she said.
Their friendship could range from comparing notes on reality TV, to "deep, gnarly conversations," Kelly said.
"I could just show up outside her house and say, 'let's go for a midnight Kmart trip or a bubble tea', or 'let's drive around in circles and have a deep, meaningful conversation'. I really miss that about her because I want to talk to her about her death and I can't." Speaking out
Hall said they had decided to speak about their experience not only to seek more answers but to highlight what felt like big gaps in the system for investigating mountain accidents.
"There should be an inquiry pathway that can at least delve into the details and the wider situation of a fatality in a social setting," she said.
The loss of a child was something no parent should have to endure, let alone without getting meaningful answers, Hall said.
The couple felt left behind by agencies they hoped would have supported them.
"At the start, everyone's so willing to help and you've got these cards, these business cards, 'look, if you've got any questions, ring us and we'll talk', but there's no one that actually gives you advice or guidance on where to from here. You're just waiting. That's all we do now is wait to hear anything," Hall said.
"The communication is just non-existent. If you want information, you have to ask for it and you have to know what you're asking for and you have to know what the process is."
Davis said the pair felt deeply for anyone else enduring a similar wait for answers.
"Since Wednesday's accident, there's been so many other similar accidents - mountaineers, climbers, walking - it just brings it all back," he said.
"We haven't got answers, and someone else's going through the same thing again."