Scene Stealers
In New Zealand's tourism capital,
newcomers' homes are crowding out the views
By
LEORA MOLDOFSKY Queenstown
The outlook
from richard and Lynn Farrar's house is of undulating, sun-toasted
pastures framed by snow-tipped mountain ranges. It's a picture-book
setting. But when the retired farmers bought their 1-hectare
Wakatipu Basin property-10 km from Queenstown, in New Zealand's
south island-in 1999, no one told them what their neighbor
was planning for those views. If his subdivision, already
approved by the district council, is given the green light
by the Environment Court, the stillness will be disrupted
by bulldozers, the open vistas dissected by roads and fences,
and the sheep replaced by 13 new houses. The Farrars are dismayed-and
puzzled. After all, says Richard, subdividing this rural land
"would destroy the reason why people choose to live here."
The problem
for the Farrars-and many of their rural neighbors-is that
more and more people are moving into this spectacularly beautiful
area. The district's growth rate (4.7% last year) has eclipsed
the New Zealand average for the past decade, and unleashed
a rural building boom. Some locals applaud development: Mayor
Warren Cooper says it has made the Queenstown Lakes District
"a much more interesting and, indeed, enchanting place." But
landowners who don't want their rural idylls swallowed up
by suburbia are rebelling. Lawyers are busy people in Queenstown
these days: there are 36 appeals currently challenging new
rural building projects.
Sheep still
outnumber Kiwis by 20 to 1 in a country with a population
density of 14 people per sq. km-half that of the U.S. Those
vast expanses of clean, green countryside are drawing not
only tourists but big-city escapees. As a result, scenic spots
like Tauranga, near Rotorua, and the Bay of Plenty are facing
heavy developmental pressure, says Environment Ministry policy
analyst Lesley Woudberg.
But it's
Queenstown that has catapulted the issue into the spotlight,
thanks in part to a nasty exchange of words between mayor
Cooper and resident actor Sam Neill, a leading spokesman for
the development critics. Cooper called the Jurassic Park star
a "chardonnay socialist" and an "environmental dilettante";
Neill said the former National minister represented a "handful
of ruthless and greedy developers who want to carve up Queenstown
for a fast buck."
The storm
has its roots in the 1991
Resource
Management Act, which allows New Zealanders to use their land
in any way they wish, provided there are no adverse environmental
effects, and requires the nation's 69 district and city councils
to prepare a plan setting out what's acceptable-and unacceptable-in
their local area.
Nine years
later, Queenstown's district plan is still caught up in appeals
before the Environment Court. But in the three years since
the plan was modified, Cooper's council has been inundated
with applications from landowners seeking to take advantage
of its more liberal regulations. If all the proposed subdivisions
go ahead, the number of houses in the Wakatipu Basin could
soon triple.
While the
critics deplore the suburban character of village-style projects
like the 160-residence Quail Rise, developer David Broomfield
insists he's green, not greedy. "We've imposed strict color
schemes and height restrictions," he says. But Wellington
architect Ian Athfield, who designed actor Neill's Lakes District
home, says such limits "are stupid. They aren't going to help
at all if the house has been built in the middle of the landscape."
Despite
the pace of development, Queenstowners complain that they
rarely get to hear about construction proposals. "We usually
find out about them when the builders start laying the foundations,"
says planning lawyer Jay Cassells. That's because the locals
haven't done their homework, says Cooper. The mayor says he's
never been an advocate of uncontrolled development. But with
the downturn in agricultural exports, "people can't be expected
to farm themselves into penury to provide green pastures for
passing tourists and these nimbycome-latelies." Cattle farmer
King Allen agrees that rural subdivisions are "inevitable."
But he's still taking the council to the High Court for failing
to tell him they'd approved the construction of a 400-house
village next to his 60-hectare cattle farm.
Like other
locals, Allen says he's not against development; he just wants
intelligent development. According to Neill, whose home overlooks
the Dalefield valley, that doesn't include farmer Mel Fordyce's
plans to have the valley rezoned for high- density housing.
Fordyce calls his opponents "hypocrites," saying they took
advantage of earlier subdivisions to build their homes. The
case won't be decided until the Environment Court brings down
its landmark judgment on how the area around Queenstown should
be treated. In its interim rulings, the court has sought to
rein in development on mountain slopes and hillsides, but
not on valley floors. Planning lawyer Warwick Goldsmith says
that's "logical and sensible," because valleys can't be seen
from public roads. Wakatipu Basin residents disagree. "There
shouldn't be any sacrificial landscapes," says film producer
Jeff Williams.
Most New
Zealanders don't yet understand the importance of the landscape,
"because there's no national body advocating its protection,"
says the Environment Ministry's Woudberg. She hopes Queenstown's
development debate will force Kiwis to look at the long-term
implications of unchecked development. The government is also
taking a stand: its Resources Management Act Amendment Bill,
due to be passed this year, is expected to bolster local communities'
say in residential developments.
Conservation-minded
Queenstowners are taking matters into their own hands. They
plan to contest the October council elections, and have a
good chance of success: the popular Cooper is not standing.
If they win, residents can expect to see development focus
on the district's towns, not the countryside. That would please
Richard Farrar, who would like to see the Wakatipu Basin designated
a national treasure. If the nation's most popular tourist
destination can't resolve the development dilemma, say the
conservationists, there's little hope for New Zealand's other
scenic spots.
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May 21, 2001 | No. 20
COVER
STORIES
Justice
Delayed
Does the hitch in Timothy McVeigh's execution point to deeper fbi problems?
The confessed bomber may get what he is due in the end, but he may also
have met one of his goals: making Americans doubt the way their government
pursues justice
TRAVELER'S
ADVISORY
SOUTH
PACIFIC
NEW ZEALAND: Loved to Death...
A top tourist spot's popularity has become a threat to its beauty
Defense: The focus shifts from force
to service
THE
ARTS
ART: Kathleen Petyarre's Utopia Dreamings
BOOKS: A Harry Potter wannabe cries foul
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