Given that first impressions are notoriously unreliable, visitors to tiny Lord Howe Island, 600 kilometres off Australia’s east coast, may be forgiven for thinking the scene greeting them on arrival is too good to be true. The lush green landscape is scattered with native palms; sea birds hover lazily in the air; and the locals look incredibly relaxed with their lot as they meet and greet at the island’s single-runway airport.
In a world where tourism operators are desperate to flout even the most tenuous of green credentials, Lord Howe may be the real deal: a World Heritage landscape where tourism, residents, and nature coexist and, for the most part, do so in a sustained environment.
Of course, those in charge of this ecotourism success story had an excellent base from which to work. Often referred to as Australia’s Galapagos Islands, Lord Howe has an impressive biodiversity. A birdwatchers’ delight, the island is home to over 130 species of birds and reportedly has one of the highest numbers of breeding seabirds in Australia. There’s a coral reef housing over 500 species of fish and 90 different corals, while back on land almost half of the 241 plants are found nowhere else in the world.
If a recipe was used to create today’s Lord Howe, it would go something like this: take one pristine island, add a smattering of palm-fringed beaches, hundreds of endemic flora and fauna, and mix well. Then carefully add a burgeoning tourism market, World Heritage listing, 350 residents, and a number of introduced species such as goats, cats and dogs.
Wait 25 years and the results become apparent: the latter ingredients, in both human and animal form, need serious management if all is to progress well. Tourist numbers have long been capped at 400 at any one time, so even when the island is full – as it is during the week that I visit – it’s serene. Beaches are blissfully people-free; tracks are secluded; and there is no competition at the many enticingly located snorkelling spots.
Residents pay a price to live in paradise: there’s a cap on cars (one must leave before another can arrive); and on development. Only 20 new houses are slated to be built in the next 25 years, but there’s a further catch; you have to have lived here for 10 years to even enter the ballot to get one.
While the management of people is tight, it’s even stricter for non-human creatures. Regulation on introduced plants and animals is key to Lord Howe’s pristine state, and intruders are dealt with actively. Travelling the narrow, 11 kilometre land mass with local guide Greg Whitfield, I start to grasp an idea of how it all connects.
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