Tree-changers and holidaymakers are flocking to New Zealand’s Great Barrier Island in search of the off-grid life. Can its eco-friendly lifestyle survive the island’s newfound popularity?
On Great Barrier Island, off the New Zealand mainland, there are no public utilities or mains.
There are no streetlights, supermarkets, high schools or ATMs. Instead, homes are powered by the sun, water comes from rain and natural creeks, food is homegrown and sewerage is turned into compost.
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This little-known island and its community exist completely off the grid. And recently, it’s attracted a surge in new arrivals.
“We thought we were 30 years behind the mainland, but we’ve realised the mainland is going in the wrong direction, using too many resources,” explains resident Caleb Bowman, a resident and owner of the island’s only off-grid brewery.
“[Now] we feel like we’re almost ahead.
“Probably it’s quite interesting for off-islanders to see what we do, and increasingly see that this is a bit of a model for low-carbon living as well.”
Reporter Calliste Weitenberg with longterm Great Barrier Island local Sven Stellin, at one of the look outs of his off grid property.
Population surge
Since the pandemic, Great Barrier Island’s local council estimates the population has grown by approximately 30 per cent, increasing from around 900 to 1200 people.
The island’s medical centre, one of the best records of new arrivals on the island, says it’s registered at least 150 permanent settlers since COVID-19.
But there’s been an even bigger upsurge in holidaymakers.
Locals attribute the surge to tree-changers, retirees, tourists and cashed-up holiday home buyers who are moving to the Barrier in search of a greener, alternative way of life. Part of a global trend as disruptions from COVID-19 cause city-dwellers to rethink their lives, careers, and environmental footprint.
Brett O-Reilly, manager of Great Barrier Island’s only landfill, which is almost full.
New arrivals
Australians Kat Tucker and Bodhi Whitaker, originally from the Sunshine Coast, have moved to the island during the COVID-19 pandemic, becoming one of many young families looking to escape the rat race and capitalise on the ability to work from home.
“[When COVID-19 hit] we went into lockdown here in New Zealand and we’d heard about this place. And so we thought we’d come out here to check it out. And then one year on, we’re still here. We’re trying to find some land to buy actually. It’s a good place to be right now in the current context of the world.”
Great Barrier Island local Judy Gilbert, shows tourists around her off-grid home.
Slowly adjusting to the off-grid way of life, Kat grows her own vegetables and makes money baking sourdough, putting the loaves in a purpose-built letterbox outside her house for locals to retrieve.
“I think the number of people who are choosing to live out here has increased, especially young families who were questioning, ‘Oh, how much do we actually want to be living in a city, totally disconnected from people?’ Or people having major career changes and choosing to live out here.”
Waste management
But new arrivals on the Barrier are an enormous Catch-22. While more people means more dollars and jobs, it also means greater numbers relying on the island’s finite natural resources.
Across the island, waste is piling up and it’s having an enormous knock-on effect at the only landfill.
Brett O’Reilly recently took over management of Great Barrier Island’s tip and says it’s now the biggest issue the community faces.
“It’s almost full,” Brett tells Dateline, staring at a mountain of waste that runs as deep underground as it does high.
Great Barrier Island’s only landfill site is almost full. Once full, the island’s waste will need to be shipped to the mainland.
“There’s an increase [of waste] with more people coming to the island and the different type of person. As you get a person that’s used to living in the city or where they don’t see the waste or they don’t live so frugally, they create more waste than the people that have been here for a long time and are used to making the most of everything they have.”
“It is a big problem,” Brett says. “What are we going to do next? The plan at this stage is for everything to be shipped off-island and to go to town. Exactly how that happens, is still getting worked on.”
You’re losing a bit of the identity of the island.Patrick O’Shea
As new arrivals bring new consumer habits, many see a culture shift on the island.
For long term residents like Patrick O’Shea, who is used to living off the grid for decades, reusing and recycling is all they know.
Patrick has built his home entirely from materials salvaged from the tip.
Scattered across his farmland property are the carcasses of scraps. An old tractor, the rusted hull of one of the island’s police cars, window frames, lawnmowers and more.
Patrick’s house is made from recycled goods.
“Yeah, we’ll put a bed in there and just a little set of drawers and a little desk there, and someone will be happy with that,” he tells Dateline, pointing to the rusted shell of an old 1960’s tour bus that sits motionless in the grass.
His house is powered by recycled batteries, all second-hand, salvaged from other people’s battery banks or old Vodafone cell towers.
“Depending how much charge they have in them is how late you stay up with your lights on,” Patrick explains.
Having mastered the art of self-sufficiency, his shower is a hose hooked up to a lemon tree and his water is pumped straight from a nearby tributary up on the hill. His food is grown out back in a garden overgrown with yacón, a kind of South American tuber.
Long term resident of Great Barrier Island Patrick O’Shea, whose off grid house is built entirely from materials salvaged from the tip.
But it’s a way of life Patrick says is slowly being lost, as new arrivals chase the off-grid life with the added convenience of modern technology.
“That is the reality and, somewhat, the sad thing where you’re losing a bit of the identity of the island. Like, that was how people were living. They were living out of necessity and lifestyle, whereas, now, it’s more convenience.
“Personally, I feel like I do have to stand up for the old ways. Keep a bit of reality in there, and don’t succumb to the modern views too quickly.”
