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Maria Whitehead has come a long way in four years. In 2004, the Ngati Porou 63-year-old was vehemently opposed to the controversial Foreshore and Seabed Act and supported the hikoi protesting against the legislation.
This week, though, she said she was 100 per cent behind her iwi's deal
with the Crown, an agreement that will vest management powers with Ngati Porou under the act.
She reckons she has gained a bit of perspective.
"A lot of our whanau went on the hikoi," she says. "We had Pakehas jumping up and down but we all lost sight of the main thing - we need to look after the moana."
Up and down the coast there are varying levels of support for the deal, with 41 out of 50 hapu backing the Te Runanga o Ngati Porou and Crown agreement.
The act vested land below the high tide mark in the Crown and drowned any hope Maori had of proving ownership - but it also set out a path for redress. In Ngati Porou's case the deal will give it new management powers over what happens from the Turanganui River in Gisborne north to East Cape, bending around to Potikirua in the Eastern Bay of Plenty. It also allows for specific fishing bylaws and protection of customary activities.
Tolaga Bay, with its blue Uawa River, is home for Mrs Whitehead, a caregiver, runanga trustee, nanny and Maori warden.
For her, ownership's an issue that's gone out with the tide. The deal means she can focus on making sure her grandchildren and their grandchildren can enjoy Tangaroa's bounty.
"Even if the Government does say they own it - it's still here with us.
"This gives us the security of knowing we will not be stopped from doing what we've always done. Before the legislation the law was imposed on us. We all know that it supersedes the lore - our tikanga [practices]. This gives us greater powers."
But Pakeha shouldn't be put off - Tolaga is still one place that proudly has land set aside for free camping, and in Mrs Whitehead's mind the beach will always be open.
However, not everyone, including Hone Taumaunu, her relation down the road at Whangara - setting for hit movie Whale Rider - thinks that the legislation is the be all and end all.
Mr Taumaunu, 78, who had a distinguished career in education, still can't believe the "wet bit of the sand" at the beach has caused so much angst.
He's circumspect about the deal because he's already using different tools - a marine and a pending mataitai protection reserve which he hopes will see "depressing" fish and shellfish stocks increase - to achieve the same outcomes the deal promises.
What real effect it will have on the kaitiaki (guardianship) role of his hapu Ngati Konohi at the beautiful, moon-shaped bay remains unclear, to him at least. "I read the thing and I couldn't make out what it said.
"We've had huis here about the seashore, foreshore but at the end of the day I say man has come in and made a law, but when I look around it doesn't mean a bloody thing. I'm still here, the wairua is still here, we still protect what we protect - no one has come here and said I can't put my little arm-chair where the sand is wet.
"When the dust settles it will have changed nothing."
Over 90 per cent of land along the 289km Ngati Porou coast is Maori owned. In Gisborne, Ngati Oneone member Bill Irwin says ownership of the foreshore isn't a dead issue. Of all Ngati Porou hapu, his has been one of the most affected by land loss because of the colonial settlement of Poverty Bay. He is backing the deal but thinks the Waitangi Tribunal could prove to be a second line for attacking the issue.
Further near the cape at Rangitukia, Ngarongotoa Raroa, 66, isn't fussed about ownership.
He always assumed the Queen's Chain meant everyone was welcome at any beach. He lives five minutes from where the Waiapu River meets the Pacific. The kahawai have been running strongly lately, and his freezer's full.
Kai gathering is an activity that can't get any more customary. That seems a common-sense approach to Mr Raroa and he wants that line applied to fisheries management - with local decisions weighing heavily in the process.
