In a small town that never asked to be famous, a certain kind of tension develops. You can see it in the crowded parking lots, the long lines at the lone café, and the residents who have subtly stopped going to their own favorite walking paths on the weekends. Tension has been growing for years in Tasmania’s wilderness gateway towns, such as Strathgordon, Queenstown, and the dispersed settlements that sit at the edge of some of Australia’s most intact wild country.
For more than ten years, Tasmanian tourism has increased steadily. Visitors from all over Australia and beyond have flocked to the state’s wilderness areas, which include the expansive Southwest National Park and the Tasmanian Wilderness World Heritage Area, which occupies almost a quarter of the island. The numbers seemed doable for a while. Then they didn’t.
It’s not an abstract strain. Tourism was severely impacted by the state’s fuel supply disruptions earlier this year. Robert Pennicott, the owner of Pennicott Wilderness Journeys, which offers cruises in southeast Tasmania, told ABC Radio that his company was experiencing cancellations from tourists from Europe and the United States. These cancellations weren’t just due to expense; they were also genuinely worried about becoming stranded in a remote location if fuel ran out. It’s possible that many tourists will perceive Tasmania’s very alluring features—its seclusion and distance from the outside world—as risk rather than romance.
It’s worthwhile to sit with that peculiar inversion. Supply chains are vulnerable because of the same wilderness that attracts people. Small towns in the southwest and interior of Tasmania have historically relied on logistics that leave little room for error. The consequences for travel agencies, lodging providers, and local companies were real when freight company SeaRoad increased its fuel surcharges by about 50% on certain services. They came right away.
Although it rarely receives the direct attention it merits, the infrastructure issue has been looming over Tasmania’s wilderness tourism industry for years. Trails intended for a few hundred committed bushwalkers each season are now receiving far more visitors than the initial planning anticipated. On busy days, some of the most photographed locations—such as locations near the Tyndall Range and tracks throughout the Southwest—have actually gotten crowded. There isn’t a single point at which a location shifts from being “popular” to “overwhelmed,” but when you walk through some of these places right now, you get the impression that the tipping point has already passed in some places.
The loudest voices don’t always agree on how to handle this, and the discussion isn’t straightforward. Some residents and environmentalists contend that development—luxury lodges, new access roads, and more tourism infrastructure within national parks—is the incorrect solution because it compromises long-term ecological integrity in favor of immediate financial gain. Others point out that in the absence of funding, facilities cannot keep up, trails deteriorate, and visitors’ experiences are already worse. The Tasmanian government’s recent efforts to allow private operators to operate in protected areas have fallen somewhere between the two camps, not entirely satisfying either.
Sometimes the more pressing issues that the towns themselves face are overlooked in that debate. Over the past 20 years, Queenstown, with its lunarscape of copper-stained hills, has witnessed tourism transform its identity without always receiving the necessary infrastructure or funding. Smaller towns closer to the borders of national parks deal with even more severe versions of the same issue: seasonal demand that sharply increases and then declines, forcing businesses to adjust around peaks that put a strain on everything.
This situation doesn’t have a clear solution. Tasmania’s wilderness is still truly remarkable, and it makes sense—even admirable—to want to see it. The challenge lies in the fact that “keeping up with demand” in this situation involves more than just logistics. What these locations can absorb before the attraction that draws visitors begins to fade is the question. Whether they are prepared or not, Tasmania’s wilderness towns are being asked to have this difficult conversation in real time.
