Rising oceans are bad luck for beach lovers

It's a brisk spring afternoon on Collaroy Beach, in Sydney's northern suburbs, and the ocean is dotted with surfers and a few hardy swimmers. On the beach, a group of children are trying to fly a kite.

Roger Wright grins as he surveys the crashing surf and golden sands.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" he says. "I wouldn't live anywhere else."

Trouble is, Collaroy doesn't always look this idyllic. When wild weather hits, particularly in winter, the mountainous seas charge up the beach, stripping away tonnes of sand and tearing up the gardens of beachside properties. Fences have been washed away, and living-rooms flooded. At times the local kids can jump straight into the ocean from their backyards.

Such scenes are set to become increasingly common. Already subject to natural erosion, Collaroy - which shares a 3.4km beach with neighbouring Narrabeen - is one of three coastal stretches in Australia identified as most vulnerable to climate change. With scientists predicting more frequent and severe storms, exacerbated by rising sea levels, the multi-million dollar properties along the beachfront are regarded as being at serious risk.

Wright, who lives in an apartment block on that strip, is unfazed. "I wouldn't dream of moving," he says. "As far as I'm concerned, it's a load of hoo-hah. I've lived here for 25 years and it's always the same. The king tides wash away the sand, then the sand comes back. I don't believe it's going to get worse, and even if it does, I'll be in the ground by then."

Others, particularly planners and policy-makers, are less sanguine. A major parliamentary report, tabled last week, found that thousands of kilometres of the Australian coastline are under threat from rising seas and climate change. It called for a blanket ban on new development in sensitive areas, and raised the possibility of the government forcing people to abandon prime beachfront homes.

The report sent a shiver through a country that worships the beach, and where the right to enjoy a seaside lifestyle is virtually sacrosanct.

Eighty per cent of Australians live near the water, and the proportion is steadily growing amid a continuing exodus from inland areas, and as baby-boomers seek a sea-change retirement. But with sea levels projected to rise one metre by 2100, the concentrated population on the coast presents enormous challenges. It is one reason why Australia is considered one of the developed nations most susceptible to climate change.

Local councils, which have primary responsibility for land management - that risk being sued for approving developments that are subsequently flooded or depreciate significantly - are at the frontlines of this battle. In Byron Bay, in northern New South Wales, the Greens-dominated council has adopted a policy of "planned retreat", obliging residents to move away as the coastline recedes.

In more developed areas, such as Sydney, that policy is not an option.

"In the urban environment, there's really nowhere to retreat to," says Professor Andy Short, director of the Coastal Studies Unit at Sydney University. "Most people with beachfront properties don't have a backing property to retreat to, because there are already other people living just behind them."

In Collaroy, named last month by the state government as one of 19 erosion "hot spots" in New South Wales, Warringah Council has bought and demolished 10 properties on the beach strip. They include a house next to Wright's block of flats, for which the council paid $3 million ($3.78 million).

But Warringah's budget, that like of other coastal councils, is limited, and neither the state nor federal government appears inclined to fund more a comprehensive buy-out - even if residents were willing to move en masse. Proposals to build a 1.1km seawall at Collaroy were dropped a few years ago after mass protests from locals, who feared it would destroy their beloved beach. The council periodically trucks in sand to replenish stocks.

Collaroy, like other erosion hot spots, is a legacy of bad planning.

When the area was sub-divided more than a century ago, property boundaries extended down the dunes and onto the shifting sands. Seven beach shacks were claimed by the waves in 1944-45, and another in 1967. Nonetheless, development continued, with a 12-storey apartment building springing up. Two smaller blocks nearly collapsed during ferocious storms two years ago.

Most properties are now fronted by protective piles of boulders or concrete slabs. But, like Wright, few locals worry about the future. "Everyone here loves the beach, so the benefits outweigh the scare factor," says Lauren Warne, a student. Robyn Friend, sitting on a bench watching the surfers, says: "If it's going to happen, it's going to happen. There's not much you can do."

Nationally, though, there is a new urgency in the debate. Next week the federal government will release a map showing Australia's most vulnerable coastal sites, which the Department of Environment and Climate Change has spent nearly two years drafting. Last week's parliamentary report, which identified 711,000 homes within three kilometres of the coast, and less than six metres above sea level, warned that billions of dollars worth of property and infrastructure are under threat.

The report also deplored the piecemeal approach being adopted by councils and state governments - a problem acknowledged by Alan Stokes, director of the National Seachange Taskforce, which represents coastal councils around Australia. "We need a consistent and coordinated national policy framework," he says, noting that developers who are frustrated by regulations might simply move to a state with a more relaxed coastal strategy.

One of the most formidable challenges, say those grappling with such issues, is bringing about a change in attitudes and convincing governments to think long-term, rather than having an eye on the next election, and persuading individuals to ditch self-interest for the common good. Nowhere in Australia are those difficulties more apparent than in Byron Bay, where beautiful Belongil Beach has become a battleground.

Belongil is one of Australia's top-risk coastal sites, and owners of valuable beachfront properties are furious that the council is refusing to allow them to build defensive rock walls. The two sides have been to court several times, and the issue came to a head again this year after a series of violent storms whipped up seas that consumed large chunks of the beach.

The council is standing firm despite threats of further legal action. Mayor Jan Barham points out that solid barriers could lead to sand - and, ultimately, an outstanding public beach - being lost. Even so, last month the state government intervened, saying that residents in Byron and elsewhere could put up seawalls provided they were "environmentally sustainable".

Professor Short calls this "a classic case of crisis management ... a state government bowing to pressure from wealthy landowners and enacting policy on the run, at odds with all existing coastal policy". Stokes says: "Those properties [at Belongil] were identified 30 years ago as being at risk of inundation, and there are encumbrances in the titles to advise any purchaser. So, the people who bought within that time would have been well aware of the situation."

North of Byron Bay is Queensland's Gold Coast, with its famous beaches - beaches that would have disappeared years ago, were it not for an array of seawalls and regular replenishment of the sand. It has been an immensely costly exercise.

Nevertheless, many scientists, including Ian Turner, deputy director of the Water Research Laboratory at the University of New South Wales, believe the best option is to "nourish" such beaches with sand mined offshore. Mr Turner says it is a common practice with minimal environmental impact.

None of these problems are new, of course. Erosion has been taking place since beaches first formed, and in New South Wales a number of coastal communities that existed 50 years ago have long since vanished. They include Sheltering Palms and New Brighton, north of Byron Bay, where sea-front houses and roads were swallowed.

Professor Short, however, predicts the situation will deteriorate drastically in years to come. "We will see erosion which exceeds any past events. Beaches will retreat to a degree they have never done in the past." Development controls must be strengthened, he says, noting that at Collaroy two houses on the beach strip are currently being rebuilt from scratch, with the council powerless to intervene.

Australians need to rethink the way they live, Professor Short says. "We can still live in the coastal zone, but not right on the coast," he says.

"If nothing is done, more houses will be washed away. Those houses will just one by one fall into the sea."