Perhaps the millions of tuatua that live on 90 Mile Beach can suffer a few losses under the wheels of tour buses without any significant impact, but some people do find such casual destruction offensive. The fact, however, is that no one knows what impact vehicles are having on the beach and the species that live there.
Earlier this year Dr Bruce Gregory told Te Hiku Community Board and district council representatives at a meeting called at Ahipara to discuss issues including vehicles on the beach that Te Oneroa a Tohe was more than a beach. It was a living entity. Many would agree with him, and many would be glad to see vehicles banned to protect it.
Attitudes are changing, if slowly. Those who have made it their mission to protect a small section of beach at Ahipara that is playing an important role in the survival of the endangered New Zealand dotterel are making progress, although their real reward will come when today's school children, infinitely more aware of and concerned about environmental issues than their elders' generations ever were or are ever likely to be, grow up and begin exerting influence as adults, but there are still some who don't give a tinker's cuss about birds, endangered or otherwise.
They are only interested in enjoying themselves, and even if they are aware of the fact that they are sharing a magnificent natural environment with other, vulnerable species, they don't seem to care. Certainly banning vehicles, particularly the two-wheeled variety, from the beach at Ahipara would attract plenty of public support. Bikes on the beach have been an issue for several decades. The Mangonui County Council tried to nobble them in the 1980s by imposing a 30mph speed limit west of Kaka Street, but even then the issue was seen as complicated. No one wanted to ban vehicles altogether because that would have penalised those who simply wanted to launch a boat, or tootle along the beach at little more than walking pace to collect a bucket of tuatua. We have a penchant in this country for punishing the many to control the few, and getting all vehicles off the beach would be another glorious example of that.
Mr Piripi, at this stage at least, isn't talking about banning all traffic, although it should be noted that the governance board has not yet been formed, and when it is his will be only one voice of many. It may well be that when the board does come into existence, some, perhaps a majority, will want to see nothing more potentially damaging than foot traffic.
We shall have to wait and see. The first priority, though, should be to actually quantify any damage that is being done. Once we know that, everyone with an interest, from the governance board to the tour companies, fishermen and tuatua fritter lovers, will hopefully have their say as to what should be done.
Those who fear the worst should take note of Mr Piripi's undertaking that iwi would consult residents and businesses, and that the board would be careful not to undermine tourism. If they are not already aware of Mr Piripi's nature, they might also be assured that that he is not generally regarded as hardline radical. He has gone to some pains over many years to express the view that the Far North's future lies in inclusivity as opposed to division between Maori and others. He is a pragmatist and a believer in his community being best served if everyone is on the same side. The governance board will not necessarily reflect his philosophy, but there is nothing about what he said last week that should have anyone reaching for their blood pressure pills.
Meanwhile, hopefully the work that needs to be done to establish just who is doing what damage to the beach will include research into the loss of the toheroa beds. It's almost 50 years since toheroa were plentiful enough to sustain an annual two-week season, and no one seems any the wiser now as to why that might be than anyone ever was.
A number of theories have been offered over the years, from the disappearance of the shellfish being the result of over-harvesting to damage by vehicles to a natural phenomenon, in that toheroa have always come and gone.
They did return briefly, in some numbers, a few years ago, but they were small, and they didn't last long. And it wasn't the call of greener pastures, cars or buses that drove them away again, but greedy people who couldn't leave them alone. They were dug up and carted away by the fishbinful, and no doubt will be again should they ever come back again.
At the end of the day the wider community should welcome the prospect of Te Oneroa a Tohe Governance Board exerting influence over a beach of which Far Northerners, even those who rarely if ever go there, are so inordinately proud. It is a magnificent environment that is worthy of protection, and it behoves everyone to ensure that it is not defiled out of ignorance, or as a result of unsustainable exploitation. And perhaps, if the governance board does its job well, it can become a symbol of how we can all work together for our common good.
